“Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.” - Sherlock Holmes

Now we apply this to minor hockey practices.

“Once you eliminate the bad things in practices, whatever remains will likely be appropriate.”

If
we could somehow get coaches to recognize what things should not be
done in practice then not do them, we’d have pretty good practices. I
know, easier said than done. Certainly this should be one of the roles
of a mentor, to point not just how to tweak practice approaches and
content but also how to remove the bad stuff. The field evaluations done
for Hockey Canada’s Development 1 and High Performance certifications
touch on this. But because these are “one-off” situations where coaches
are on their best behaviours, it’s not often we see drills or teaching
that just shouldn’t be there.

Here’s a list of what we should mostly eliminate from practices (not in order of importance):

No water breaks - The kids have to earn them? Really?

Yelling at players to go faster or slapping your stick on the ice as they go by

Coaches not engaged or teaching or giving feedback

Coaches dressed like they’re gardening or at the beach

Coaches playing with or shooting pucks while someone is talking or teaching

Beginning a practice with 5 minutes of players just goofing around

Yakking at the rink board for more than about a minute

Using a rink board for kids under age 9

Using a whistle on and on and on to tell kids when to start or stop

Not enough pucks (should be about 3-4 per player)

The absence of fun

Full ice drills for little ones

Linear drills (versus ones with more east-west skating)

Drills or exercises to punish (eg. skate the lines!)

Exercise as punishment (“If you get it wrong again, you’ll do 10 pushups!”)

Teaching team play principles with kids standing still or being shunted around a zone like chess pieces

Coach who look bored themselves or display little enthusiasm

The same drills done the same way in most practices

Demos that are way too fast

Regroup drills for young players

No practice plan

Lines of more than 3-4 to do a drill

Insufficient reps

... and so whatever remains will likely be pretty darn good.

]]>Wed, 30 Aug 2017 15:54:20 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28723

Everyone wants drills.

It’s 4pm on practice day and you need to be at the rink for a 7pm
50-minute session. You have a good idea of what you want covered but
work, family, and a car needing a tune-up have interrupted hockey
planning. It’ll be a dash no matter what. Your assistants rely on you to
put the practice together since neither of them are as experienced.
Where to start?

There are so many ways to access drills these days that it’s almost
overwhelming. However, the three best sources I’ve found are Hockey
Canada’s Drill Hub and Network and the site hockeyshare.com.
Only the drill hub is fully free, though it has limitations. Both of
HC’s programs are available (right now) only as apps on tablets and
smartphones. The network app has a limited trial version and is
otherwise $47.99 per year (or $5.49 per month). In some areas of the
country, coaches in coaching clinics are given a free one year
subscription.

The amount of content Hockey Canada has put in the network app is
astounding, and it’s not just drills. There’s training information,
videos, articles and more. It’s a terrific resource. The free drill hub
has, well, drills, also with videos. So if you’re the coach mentioned
above, snatching a drill from one of these is easy.

But neither app allows the creation of your own practice plans. For that you can use a site like hockeyshare.com,
which has a free version with limited tools. The full paid version,
with a discounted rate for associations, allows you to create drills and
practices, animate the drills, and share them with people.

Here’s the rub - and it’s a key one: With all those hundreds of
drills literally at your fingertips, do you know how to adapt them to
your team? The Hockey Canada apps do indeed divide them by age group so
you can see what’s available for your atom team. However, in many areas,
there could be four to eight levels of play in an age group, from
competitive AAA to the lowest tier of house league. How do you know
what’s appropriate and, if the drill isn’t quite the ticket, what will
you do to it to make it so?

This is one of the major failings in minor hockey: the inability (and
sometimes unwillingness) of coaches to adapt a marvellous drill to a
team’s specific needs. Not enough time? Not sure what to look for or how
to go about it? Both valid which means the onus is on the game’s
leaders to provide the right tools.

So yes indeed, use those apps and sites. They’re vitally important in
providing coaches resources they never had before. Just be mindful of
the limitations.

Oh, and get the car tuned up on a non-practice day!

]]>Tue, 22 Aug 2017 14:20:58 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28706

Are some drills inherently dangerous? What makes them so? In fact, how do you define danger in a sport rife with contact?

Do
you remember the gut-buster drill, aka wallies? Sprint across the rink,
touch the boards with your stick, repeat till either your thighs
explode you upchuck last night’s dinner into a garbage pail the coach
conveniently left at the bench. What’s done with adults or junior age
players is hardly ever appropriate for children. Aside from the inane
belief this drill developed some bizarre fitness component, it’s
inherently dangerous. Children don’t stop efficiently. Even if able to
maintain some semblance of speed going into the second or third rep,
they can fall feet first into the boards. There are far safer and more
effective drills to accomplish the same objectives, however obtuse those
might have been.

Dangerous drills can pose both physical and
psychological dangers. Two kids racing at each other, versus with each
other, for a puck is meant to find out who’s faster – and tougher.
Who’ll flinch? It must be a scary thought for a kid to see someone
coming right at him, head down. It’s a commonly used drill yet there are
so many better ways to seek the competitive edge in kids other than a
sort of death race.

A drill is dangerous when it forces
players to try to do something whose risks outweigh the rewards. It goes
beyond what is inherently expected in the sport. Sometimes the drill
itself isn’t dangerous but how it’s positioned on the ice may be. For
instance, drills where kids on opposite sides of the centre line, who
are racing toward the line, might be dangerous for younger ones who
don’t have the stopping skills and could collide with each other. This
applies as well to drills where kids need to stop or turn suddenly at
the boards when their skill level is not yet up to par.

Here’s
another one, using a small area game. The coach sets up a 4 v 4 game
across the rink, but to make it more vigorous and intense, he throws in
two pucks. So the kids go at it full bore, bouncing from chasing one
puck to the other. The puck carriers are trying to evade checks in a
small space but suddenly it seems there are two teams coming at them.
There’s no real need to have a two-puck scrimmage. If the objective is
increased intensity and competitiveness, that’s more easily and safely
accomplished in small space with fewer kids – and one puck.

And
naturally, any drill where the coaches actively participate is also
dangerous. Aside from a demo, there’s no need for coaches to do a drill
with players. It’s an unsafe situation with an accident waiting to
happen.

]]>Tue, 08 Aug 2017 10:20:24 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28686

Sometimes you need to tighten the bolt.

If you riffle through a drill book or site, you’ll find an endless
list of wonderful drills which have various types of resistance. 2-on-1s
– 3-on-1s, which become 3-on-2s – small area games that are essentially
battle drills. These are all great and have their place.

What we never see are drills that show how to add varying types of
resistance in degrees, what I like to call tightening the bolts. It’s
one thing to put the bolt on the screw. That’s easy. But as you turn the
bolt and get near the end to tighten it, things get more challenging.
So it should be with many drills.

In a game at pretty much any age and level, there are three types of
resistance: front, as in a forechecker or a defenceman facing an
attacker, back such as what a backchecker would provide while chasing a
puck carrier, and side as one would see jostling along the boards or
battling for the puck shoulder to shoulder. Nearly all drills we find
illustrate front, a few from the back, and rarely from the side unless a
pure battle drill. Moreover, not many drills increase or change the
resistance as the drill progresses.

Taking the typical 2-on-1 as an example, players begin with a curl or
pass or give and go then attack the defenceman. Because there’s no rear
pressure, they don’t need to attack with speed or hurry the play or
react quickly. This is fine if the drill’s objective is merely to work
on what kind of attack is to be attempted. But at some point, the play
needs resistance. The bolts have to be tightened in order for all three
players to learn to react under varying conditions.

This in fact is the crux of the issue: how to alter a simple drill to
make it more challenging, more gamelike, and offer more read and react
opportunities.

Here’s another simpler drill. You’ve asked your kids to skate
through, say, four pylons with a puck and then take a shot. You’ve been
working on puck skills and tight turns and now it’s time to put it into
action. Except, skating through pylons, after a few tries, isn’t action
at all. It’s perfecting techniques, which is of course vital. If you had
a chaser who starts about three seconds later, the puckcarrier now has
to deal with a great deal more variables.

Once players have a handle on a drill, it’s time to tighten that
bolt. How you achieve it is another problem. However, doing it in any
fashion that still allows the drill to function properly with some
success will help your players learn to cope with the game’s various
adversities.

]]>Tue, 01 Aug 2017 14:21:28 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28682

What would happen if minor hockey tournaments didn’t exist? Panic in
the motel industry? Anxiety among parents having no place and no one to
party with on weekends?

Aside from the financial hole it would
put associations in, it might take a lot of the fun out of being on a
team. From a coaching standpoint though, it would also remove from the
season plan a valuable tool to assess your players and overall team.
That’s really what a tournament should do, especially ones early in the
season. (I’m not touching the parent party perspective!)

Having
good results at an early season tournament can be misleading. Your
group may be strong right out off the start then plateau as other teams
get in better technical and tactical shape. Or perhaps you have a couple
of superior players who are able to dominate early before the
opposition has had a chance to figure out how to play them.

The
first tournament of the year should also be a “feeling out” process for
the coaching staff. Coaches need to learn more about players’
attitudes, information which is difficult to glean from tryout or sort
out sessions. Those are almost exclusively done based on observations of
game or drill participation.

It’s still too early to even
assess where players fit on lines or defence pairings. In minor hockey,
that’s often a season-long experiment. However a first tournament is a
great opportunity to try some match-ups and see how they go.

One
key element coaches, particularly head coaches, may not spend much time
considering is the interaction among members of the staff. Sometimes
additional assistants or trainers are 11th hour picks. I recall one
fellow with a competitive pee wee team whose entire staff, one by one,
dropped out in August because of changes in work schedules and other
commitments. He had to scramble to replace them.

However,
staffs that have been together a while may have changed roles or
responsibilities. How they handled the bench in novice is about to
change in atom. Or going from tier 3 competitive to tier 1 will alter
their approach. The first tournament of the year is an ideal opportunity
to do some in-depth self- analysis and evaluation.

There’s
another piece to this: the parents. Again, setting aside commentary on
their away tournament parties, I’d want to know what they’re “really”
like. Everyone was on their best behaviour during tryouts. While you’ve
heard rumours of this one or the other, part of your team assessment has
to include a close-up view of their comportment because the inescapable
truth is that the parents are an integral part of your team.

So
then, yes, the first tournament can provide a great deal of valuable
insight into your group, and little of it has to do playing technique or
tactics.

]]>Tue, 25 Jul 2017 10:24:48 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28673

You’ve got your team. Practices begin soon. What do you start with?

Not
a drill. Not even a type of drill. Not a particular skill or tactic
either. While those will come into play, the number one place to begin
is with establishing (pick whichever ones apply): tone, work ethic,
routine, teaching approach.

Some years back, the coach of a
junior club – his only year with the team – wanted to clean up the
players’ previously slovenly (according to the GM) approach to practice.
So he told the players that when they went on the ice for practice,
they had to first take five full speed running steps going through the
door. His thinking was this would get them into “work mode” straight
off. He was right. It did and the practice effort was terrific.

I
stole the idea from him and used it three years ago with a bantam team.
Before our first practice, I told them to take three running strides
onto the ice first. When I caught someone not doing it, they were sent
back off the ice to try again. After a few practices, even the players
were telling each other to do it when they forgot. So the tone was set
from the get-go.

Back to the classroom analogy. Experienced
teachers know that effective classroom management is essential to the
education process, that without it, learning (and, of course, teaching)
is next to impossible. It must then be the same for coaching hockey,
which, admittedly is a more challenging environment.

Even with
skills or drills that aren’t relevant, if you structure your early
practices properly, things will begin as they should. I know of one
coach who insists good practices begin not on the ice but in the
dressing room. It’s an interesting viewpoint. If the team is well
organized in the room and exits in a controlled manner (not so easy with
young ones), is it more likely you’ll have decent group control on the
ice? He claims yes. I agree.

Teachers are also aware they need
to keep the reins, so to speak, tighter at the beginning of the year
and gradually loosen them as needed. The problem with minor hockey
coaches is that they tend to translate this into needing to be
autocratic. Not true. Just well organized. The assistants have to know
what to do. How the players move from one activity to the next, when
feedback interventions occur, how drills are constructed to maximize
participation, when to bring them to the board are all key ingredients
that should appear in practice #1.

An observer should be able
to see this first practice as being well organized with players under
control, even if what’s being taught is questionable. Manage this well
and working with the team will be easier and more fun for coaches and
players.

]]>Mon, 17 Jul 2017 13:03:49 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28649

Who thinks about hockey in the dead of summer? Frankly, only unusual
people like me who use the cozy weather to bone up on research, check
out who’s doing what, and soldier on in the pursuit of further coaching
knowledge.

Every conversation I have with a coach, including my own reflections,
seems to draw out new questions. So here’s one we’ve all wrestled with,
no matter the level: what do I start the season with?

One fellow once shared he wanted his youngsters to learn how to play
as a team right off the bat. To that end, he was going to spend most of
his early season practices showing positioning and giving his young
charges direction on where to go, when, and why. Good thought. Wasn’t
going to happen. How quickly a team gels is never a function of moving
them around a zone like chess pieces. It takes time, lots of time. For
younger kids, playing as a team might mean little more than completing
three successive passes anywhere on the rink. If you can get them to
learn offensive and defensive support, that’d be fine as well.

But it’s not realistic to expect kids to play as a team right out of
the gate. What we should be striving for is developing in them an
understanding of the pieces that comprise playing as a team. Support, as
mentioned, is one. Passing to retain puck control is another. Compete
level to regain or retain the puck works, too.

Each of those in turn requires a particular set of skills and
individual tactics that need to be sewn together like a quilt.
Unfortunately too many coaches fall back on their own experiences in,
say, junior. There, teams retain a good chunk of their rosters from year
to year so that creating team cohesion is more fluid. Plus of course
those players have years of experience behind them. Kids even into
bantam don’t have much of that. Even a group that’s been together for a
few years sees roster moves as well as huge changes in growth and
development, not all of which are positive.

So we’re back at the question of what to begin the season teaching.
Skills? Certainly. But how you start has to be linked to what you want
the final product to look like. It’s so easy to get caught up in the
here and now. The season begins shortly and we need to cover so much.

Only the first half of that sentence is true. No, you don’t have to
cover everything. You have six months to touch on the key items. What
you must be able to do is expose your players to multiple elements of
the game, focusing on skills, building those into some simple individual
tactics and then constructing a playing philosophy around it all.

Next week, let’s look at some examples of ways to start things off.

]]>Tue, 11 Jul 2017 10:03:58 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28648

Unofficial survey. Your answers will not be shared. That’s because you’ll keep them to yourself.

Answer Yes or No:
I want my players to be smart hockey players.
I want my players to know when to angle (or not) and by how much.
I want my players to know how to find a seam for a pass.
I want my players to be able to go to a space to receive said pass.
I want my players to read a defender’s body position and react appropriately.
I want my players to understand that a gap isn’t just a store and know when to close it.
I want my players to exit our zone by first looking for pressure and reacting accordingly.

Of course, the full survey includes more statements about neutral
zone play, specialty teams and so on. How much you want their IQ to
increase depends on their age and level, not yours. This is a
significant difference. Our impatience as coaches with how much kids
understand about the game is probably one of our major coaching issues.
It seems perfectly fine to realize a grade 5 ten-year-old might be able
to cobble together a few sentences into a semblance of a paragraph. That
child is not yet able to determine a single theme from Shakespeare’s Macbeth, let alone write a couple of hundred words about it.

Coaches can do a great deal to improve players’ IQ, even in simple
skill drills. For instance, when doing balance or other manoeuvres the
length of the rink, players are often directed to do the exercises at
specified lines. Why not have an assistant at the far end raising his
stick in the air to indicate a rep? Now the players need to watch and
react.

Pre-determined routes using pylons have their place in skills
instruction in that they allow for repetition in a blocked practice
format. Remove the pylons and try making the kids do the skill every X
number of seconds. Now they have to put their brains into gear along
with performing the skill.

When teaching tactics of any sort, offer varying degrees and types of
resistance. Even passive resistance from a player pushing his stick
blade into a puck handler’s path is enough to make the attacker read and
react. After a few reps, adjust the resistance, like loosening or
tightening a bolt. One way is to add movement to the resisting player.
Another is to add distractions, like tossing pylons into the attacker’s
path as he approaches the defender.

If you want players to think, or develop their Hockey IQ, telling
them what to do won’t cut it. Instead, show them how by changing the
parameters of a drill or putting them in situations where they must
think. Over time, you will see a positive change.

]]>Tue, 04 Jul 2017 10:00:45 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28636

At a workshop, when asked for priorities for next season’s team, a
coach tossed out Hockey IQ. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable
response, except for the fact he was coaching atoms. This isn’t to say
Hockey IQ isn’t a priority nor an appropriate objective in atom hockey.
On the contrary, they’re both valid. Except I’m not sure if the coach
knew what is meant by the term for minor hockey youngsters, let alone
how to teach it.

When pressed on what he meant, he replied he wanted his kids to learn to think. He just wasn’t sure how to go about it.

Isn’t it interesting how in sport, and education, things tend to go
full circle? Hockey IQ used to be called “smart,” even creative. A
player who knew what to do and when was preferred over those deemed
“uni-dimensional,” though there always seemed to be a place for them,
too. Could you have a “stay-at-home” D who couldn’t do much with the
puck, would never play on the PP, and sure wasn’t going to lead a quick
transition? Then? Yes. Now? Not as much.

What’s made the ubiquity of the term ‘Hockey IQ’ challenging for
minor hockey coaches is that its use in major junior or pro has been
extrapolated to minor. Here, it’s much less easily defined and darn
tricky to teach. Sure, everyone wants smart hockey players. But how
smart does one expect an eight- or ten- or 13-year-old to be?

Do an internet search for Hockey IQ. You’ll find some excellent sites
with definitions, examples and even drills to illustrate. Here’s one: howtohockey.com. It’s worth reading whether you’re a coach or player – older player – much older player!

Let’s be clear: children aren’t surfing the net looking for articles.
It’s up to coaches to do the research then examine how they can
approach it with kids. From that site mentioned above is this about
decision-making: “You always have multiple options on the ice, good decision making will make you more effective.”

Yes indeed. But when you’re dealing with little ones or young teens,
the very nature of the decisions they’re being asked to make is
radically different. In junior, on a 3-on-2 rush, there are a great many
options for the attackers and thus decisions to which the defencemen
must react (or initiate in order to force the attackers into
disadvantageous positions). Even top level atoms are limited in their
ability to make similar decisions. Why? For the simple reasons that they
haven’t the playing experience, game knowledge, and skills foundation
of juniors. Their Hockey IQ potential is narrower, for the moment.

Next week, we’ll look at ways to imbed thinking into practice, even into basic skill drills.

]]>Tue, 27 Jun 2017 14:26:48 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28569

At a coaching clinic, I tossed out examples of how one might use
questioning to draw better executed skills from kids. The easiest and
most visual one was how to improve crossovers with younger children.
Using my hands to demonstrate skate position, I asked the group, “A
child who can’t or won’t put one foot on the other side of the other.
Why don’t I just ask him to do with his skates what I’m now doing with
my hands? Why can’t I just ask him, ‘Can you copy this?’”

Heads
nodded. Sure. Seems logical. That’s because everyone in the room knew
that the key teaching point for a crossover was foot placement. But what
if it’s not so obvious? What if you’re not sure what the key teaching
point is and thus can’t pose the proper question?

This
happened in another setting, where a group of coaches were unable to
identify the key teaching point for making a tight turn (answer: turn
head and shoulders first!). The topic came up during a brief discussion
of breakouts and the importance of teaching the puck retriever to dig
out the puck and turn sharply while stepping up the ice to prepare for a
pass or carry.

I threw out questions trying to elicit the
right response. When it didn’t come, I commented, “How can you ask a
child what he needs to do to execute a better turn when you yourself
don’t know what must come first? And what will this do to your so-called
breakout?”

Let’s extend this approach from a basic skill
and individual tactic to something more complex, like d-zone coverage.
The traditional teaching approach has been to place defenders in the
zone while the puck is passed around. The coach then points or places
players where they should be. “When the puck goes from here to here, you
need to go from this spot to there…”

But the game’s
dynamic fluidity means new positioning adjustments happen constantly.
How will players react when you pose questions like:

Is that D a rightie or leftie and how does that affect your stick position?

Which way should you face?

How do you know what’s going on behind you?

Your centre fights for the puck in the corner. How best to support?

When you (or a teammate) get the puck, what are you going to do?

Each time the offensive unit does something different,
you need to pose more questions to see how your players react. The
guidance you provide, rather than the dogmatic chessboard approach, will
go much further in your players learning to read and react.

And it all comes from knowing the right questions to ask.

]]>Tue, 20 Jun 2017 21:58:13 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28542

Ask a teacher, especially an elementary or middle school teacher, if
they use inquiry based learning and heads will nod. At least they do
when I bring it up at coaching clinics or workshops. Everyone else sort
of sits there looking blankly ahead.

After all, unless you’re in the education world, why should you know
about it? It’s not taught nor even suggested in most coaching programs.
Yet it’s one of the most effective ways to teach.

Inquiry based learning means using questions to draw information or
analysis from the learner so they are at the centre of the process.
Notice the use of the words “draw from.” It’s quite different from the
typical sport teaching approach, particularly in hockey, in which the
“sage on the stage” coach constantly drills home information on what to
do, when and how. Rather than draw from, we tend to “pour in” as if
children’s heads were vials we could fill with information, with no
chance of leakage.

The modern catchphrase for hockey these days is the development of
the vaguely defined Hockey IQ. At the upper and older levels, people
bemoan the lack of it, that coaches don’t teach players how to think or
be creative.

Perhaps most don’t. Then again, we haven’t exactly shown them how
either. Inquiry based learning is a way to do it. It’s certainly not the
only way. But if you’ve used this approach, you’ve probably discovered
how players are able to come up with interesting solutions. Or, in the
case of pure skills instruction, help kids improve their execution by
asking rather than commanding.

As with most things slightly out of the norm in modern coaching,
convincing coaches to try this approach is a challenge. It seems so much
easier to just tell a kid to do what I showed you to do or copy a
video. Or worse still, listen to my words then put them into action.

There’s a time and place for those approaches. Bantam and midget AAA
coaches, for instance, are more likely to use these more traditional
methods because it’s how they themselves were taught and also because
the players are used to it. Neither is necessarily the best way to get
some messages across. For instance, you’re teaching a forecheck where F1
needs to funnel the puck carrying defenceman to the right wing boards.
You could indeed tell – even demand – the forward exactly what he needs
to do. Or, you could ask, “Where do you think that D is going to go when
you move here… or here… or here…?” In fact, you’re allowing the F to
experiment a bit with the playing system while forcing him to consider
viable options only he can apply in the heat of the moment.

The late anthropologist Margaret Mead wrote, “Children need to be
taught how to think, not what to think.” Given hockey’s fluidity, how do
we accomplish that?

Next week: Ways to use inquiry based learning.

]]>Tue, 13 Jun 2017 13:20:45 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28526

Assumptions. With regard to coaching, minor hockey is guilty of
making plenty of them. Sometimes it’s almost standard operating
procedure for a lot of reasons, many of which have few viable
alternatives.

For example, one of an association’s better coaches the last few
years has been through the Initiation Program then novice and atom. He’s
been coaching his own child, a typical scenario. Now he gets to pee wee
and his child jumps to a higher calibre team. It’s assumed he’ll be a
good coach. Why?

Because he’s a good guy with a fine track record with young kids?
However, pee wees aren’t so young anymore and the new level’s
expectations are a far cry from novice house league where he began. What
training or preparation has he had (or been provided)? Probably none.
Why should this fellow have a handle on the needs of competitive
11-year-olds and know how to construct a proper program for them when
none of his experiences to date have even touched on it?

A local former minor pro player has been hired to run skills training
for an association. He coached a couple of years but mostly just
teaches these skills. He’s a beautiful demonstrator of various skills
and has a strong on-ice presence.

Questions to ask him to bypass the standard assumptions that great
players or skaters can teach and correct: What training, formal or
through personal development, have you had? Are you familiar with Hockey
Canada’s LTPD? Provide a progression for teaching forward crossovers
that focuses on the three most important teaching points? How do you
correct, and what feedback do you give, to a group of nine year olds who
have trouble doing back skating transitions? Explain how skills are
generally acquired.

A longtime coach with the boys’ bantam and midget elite teams has
been “pressured” at home to now coach his daughter’s recreational atom
team. He should be able to pull this off, shouldn’t he? After all,
hockey is hockey, isn’t it? Just tone down the drills and be a little
more patient, right? There shouldn’t be any real issues with this girls
team, should there?

A former AHL and NHL coach has moved into the area and has offered to
help the association – for free. His child (or nephew or niece or
grandchild) is playing there and he’d like to offer his services. At
first glance, what would you have him do? Why? And if you’re not sure,
what would you ask him (without being intimidated or insulting him) in
order to find out what he can offer?

Or, for all of the above, do you not bother with any of these
questions and just forge ahead letting coaches do what they do and have
always done?

]]>Tue, 06 Jun 2017 12:15:15 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28472

A coach asked me recently about whether or not it was worth attending
a certain coaching seminar. While I’d attended the same one not long
ago, I could understand why a young coach would consider going.

There’s
the “Wow” factor: see an NHL or major junior coach, in the flesh,
lecturing on what they do in the big leagues. “Here’s our 5 on 3 PP,”
said then Bruins assistant Geoff Ward at a seminar the year after Boston
won the Cup. Then came the punchline. His last slide showed the secret
to winning in the playoffs: GAGG - Get A Great Goalie. (Tim Thomas had
led the way that year).

At another a couple of years back, one
of the Montreal assistants did a presentation on the stats he kept and
how they were used. I later asked a pee wee coach what he thought of it.
He said it was “pretty cool” but he couldn’t see any of it being useful
at his level.

Most pro coaches I’ve met have been marvelous
at sharing, chatting and even guiding. But I’ve not yet met one who
could relate to the issues a pee wee or bantam amateur coach faces. In
fact, many state straight away that their approaches probably shouldn’t
be attempted with children. This shouldn’t dissuade someone from going
so long as one keeps perspective in mind. And cost. Seminars aren’t
cheap because bringing in these coaches costs a few bucks.

What’s
the objective? Learning and personal development are wonderful. Does
one need to attend a lecture from an astro-physicist to learn about
space travel, or would a viewing of the film Apollo 13 suffice? An
obvious problem about seminars is the gap between minor hockey’s reality
and pro or junior sport.

However, there is a great deal to be
said for just plain learning; for seeing how the game has changed (or
not); for noticing that pro coaches have many of the same challenges as
minor coaches; for understanding the importance of detail and being able
to break down a skill or tactic to its base forms; and for realizing
there is so much more to coaching than can be found in any clinic or
book.

As I shared with that coach, experience plays a role,
too. I’ve been to a great many seminars with a wide array of speakers.
Most were very good and a few were duds. Having now heard a dozen
different approaches to defensive team play or attack methods or
goal-setting, I personally feel a bit burned out, not to mention the
volumes of handouts I’ve read a few times.

But for him and most others, as a new and exciting coaching development experience, it may be well worth the time and money.

]]>Wed, 24 May 2017 10:06:34 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28468

I work with an association as its lead mentor and we have spring
tryouts, a new experience for me. But rather than delve into its pros
and cons, let’s look at one aspect of it that is a clear benefit to
coaches.

We’re diving headlong into a new development program
for our competitive teams. Let’s call it a curriculum, which it is.
First and foremost, of course, are the objectives for the season. Since
the teams are now picked, coaches will have workshops during which they
will identify their teams’ needs and how they connect with the
aforementioned curriculum.

Had the tryouts been pre-season, in
August or September, the approach used in most places, coaches would
face a dizzying short time frame to make these decisions. Once those
tryouts end, they’re straight into season prep mode with nary a few
moments to spare. In this scenario, however, they’ll have about three
months to first get away from hockey and yet still give more thought to
their objectives. Whether or not these are likely to change is
immaterial. The point remains: with their team picks fresh in their
minds, coaches have plenty of time to shape the season objectives.

Given
the existence of a curriculum, they can’t just go off half-cocked with
content inappropriate to the age level. For instance, in school, the
grade five teacher doesn’t teach Macbeth. Interesting play, cool themes,
plenty of conflict, but not for ten-year-olds. Yet this same teacher
may very well address themes of conflict using dialogue in simpler forms
so that when these kids reach high school, they’re better able to
understand Shakespeare’s tragedy. Same in hockey: complex forecheck
setups are neat. But first the kids need to understand principles of how
to use speed, angling, stick position and skating skills so that the
slide from atom to midget works.

Our coaches have to become
familiar with the curriculum. Then, using it as their road map, build a
vehicle to travel the route at a proper speed. They’ll also have to
recognize that having objectives in some areas means setting others
aside, ones they may have wanted to cover but really shouldn’t. For
example, if a pee wee AA (our tier 2 level) coach really wants to focus
on skating agility and puck control, he has to realize he’ll be shifting
results (ie. wins-losses) to the bottom of the list alongside some team
play. Is he correct? If the curriculum calls for lots of skating and
puck work, yes. Should his objectives include more team play?

This
is where the coach has to look carefully at how the objectives may
change over the season. At this moment, he feels those items are
priorities. After two months, it may all change although the
foundational curriculum won’t. Regardless, you still need to have a
strong idea of where you’re heading with the team next year.

]]>Tue, 23 May 2017 10:30:55 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28433

Coaches talk too much. I doubt there are many who really truly
believe their words hold great import for teams. If I ask a coach how
much time is spent on the ice showing a drill or teaching, they nearly
always say something akin to, “As little as possible.” Time frame,
coach? “Oh, maybe 30 seconds or less.”

Correct. Then why on earth talk so much before games, between periods, or after games?

One of the more interesting and challenging aspects of minor hockey,
especially at the elite levels, occurs when the ice is flooded after the
first or second period. It’s more common in tournaments, but is a
regular season feature of AAA. Essentially we’re asking our kids to push
a reset button in the room and try to exit with the same or better mind
frame as for the beginning of the game. But this applies to the
coaches, too.

Experienced coaches who are rooted in the learning styles of their
players understand not only “the law of diminishing returns” (more talk =
less impact) but also the art of knowing exactly what to say and to
whom. I’ve seen coaches race into the room after a period and start
talking or interacting with the kids almost before they’re seated.
Players need a break from the coaches. And coaches need to take some
time to script exactly what should be said and why.

Will you really solve the team’s forecheck issue by diagramming it
for the fifth time? Or would it be more productive to address this with
the handful of kids who aren’t executing as designed? Should the coach
be task-focused between periods? Is it better to say nothing? Why?

Understanding the age group is, of course, essential. Younger kids
just hear blah blah. Teens may tune in but only for a short while. Then
they think, “Right, yeah, I know, we didn’t capitalize on the chances.
How do I fix that, coach?”

I recall assisting on a junior team where the head coach, a terrific
individual, always called on me to say something between periods.
Mostly, I said nothing. I saved it for the bench for when the period was
about to start. He’d already addressed a couple of key points and I
figured that was enough. Occasionally, I handled the between periods
chat, but even then, it was on perhaps one point.

Coaches have to take a breath, or four. Think about what you want to
discuss, and more importantly, why. As well, which coach needs – really
needs – to say something? Just because there are three coaches and the
head coach is a magnanimous person about sharing the load doesn’t mean
all three have to yak. It doesn’t even mean the head coach has to. In
fact, no one has to.

There are innumerable ways to try keep a team on track or improve
performance. All require communication. But what kind? When? To whom?
And why?

]]>Tue, 16 May 2017 14:52:41 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28425

So, how’d it go?

To which the respondent, a perfectly typical minor hockey coach who,
like nearly all of them, has his heart in the right place, says, “Pretty
good. We got into the finals of two tournaments. That’s never happened
before at this level in the association. We lowered our goals-against
from last year’s team by over 1.5 per game. Better penalty minutes, too.
Went on a five-game win streak before our best forward twisted his
ankle and everything sort of fell apart offensively. Our goals-for
dipped but the power play really suffered. We went a month before
scoring on the PP. Oh, and the playoffs… Well, we made it in and took
the third place team to six games, which I understand is the furthest
this group has ever gone. The forecheck broke down just enough times for
them to capitalize. Goaltending was okay. Save percentages were better
as the year wore on.”

Blah. Blah. Blah.

That kind of reply is fairly common when I ask coaches about their
seasons. Did you notice that everything in it is performance-related, as
if the team statistician was sitting right there and reeling off fact
after fact? Those things may all be true and, to some degree, provide a
gauge of the team’s success. But in my experience, one doesn’t often
hear coaches boast about how much certain skills improved or whether
those forwards ever learned to turn both ways or if the small area games
done in most practices were reflected in games in some way. Oh, and
whether or not it was a fun season for the kids.

It’s a bit of a commentary on our system, that we’re so results
oriented we quickly lose sight of the process. Admittedly though, it’s
tough for coaches to set aside stats and performance-related objectives
that were or weren’t met. Expectations from parents, especially on
competitive teams, and sometimes from association boards can fly
directly in the face of the coach’s instincts. We all know we shouldn’t
be focused on product, but we also can’t ignore what’s around us.

I certainly take into account the level and age group. A major bantam
AAA group should have vastly different objectives than a 3rd tier atom
competitive team. One is elite hockey, preparing young teens for junior
in a couple of years. The other is well-skilled children on the cusp of,
well, no one yet knows because it’s just too early.

Perhaps a more apropos and pointed question for a coach might be, “So, which won this year: process or product?”

]]>Tue, 09 May 2017 13:27:56 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28407

Hockey team trainers are overworked and under-appreciated. We say
thanks at the end of a season though I wonder how many coaches realize
just what these people have been doing all year.

I’m not sure whether I’ve been making my own luck by choosing the
right people or not, but I’ve had some terrific trainers both in minor
and junior. In fact, the only bad one I ever had was at the club in
France where I coached. The fellow, whom everyone called Doc, seemed to
know little about anything to do with injuries or equipment. A Gallic
shrug translates pretty easily into any language. He did that a lot in
answer to questions about injuries.

It seems that whatever we ask of trainers they take on
enthusiastically and as a minimum standard. There was John, the trainer
of a midget AAA team, who used his own funds to buy bags of bagels and
fruit for the players at tournaments. He treated each kid like they were
his own. Steve, who continues to be the trainer for the junior team I
was part of for a few years, must have the club’s logo tattooed to his
heart. Meticulous, caring, trustworthy and proud of the team, Steve sets
a standard against which I tend to measure them all, which is perhaps a
little unfair. And there’s Jack who, after a final tryout session with
an atom AAA team, handed each kid a chocolate bar as a thank you for
their effort. He has no child on the team.

The better coaches I’ve worked with – and I’ve unabashedly followed
their lead – almost always included the trainers in staff meetings,
sessions with parents, and closed door talks about players. Invariably,
they had something novel to add to conversations; about how players
interacted in the room or on the bench; about which kids were more or
less likely to be able to deal with the game’s bumps and bruises; even
about dispelling (or confirming) rumours that tend to swirl around
teams.

With younger or lower level teams, it’s essential trainers be
regarded not just as the people who fill the water bottles or fix
helmets but as important members of the leadership group. They aren’t
coaches and shouldn’t try to fulfill dual roles. I once had to ask one
exuberant dad/trainer on my team not to go to his child on the bench to
give advice. A fine trainer, he meant well, but it was misplaced.

Many teams have trainers run the off ice warm ups, a solid idea
indeed. In fact, if you can get a trainer with a physical training
background, even better.

We spend so much time in our game extolling the virtues of coaches. It’s time the trainers got some love, too.

]]>Tue, 02 May 2017 09:25:12 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28388

Our minor hockey paradigm for the last century had mostly stayed the
same. Rule changes, age shifts, coach training and other components were
standard fare. Now, with Hockey Canada’s leap forward into mandating
cross ice in I.P. and then novice, brains will need rewiring.

Last week, I pointed out what coaches will need to do. That’ll be
tough enough. But as we knows all too well, the minor hockey “industrial
complex” as it were has multiple branches. Each will require a distinct
paradigm shift in attitude and approach.

Parents, this means you first and foremost. At first, this will all
look as though we’ve turned the game upside down. It won’t be hockey the
way we played it as kids ourselves. The smaller spaces and fewer kids
in games will seem out of sync with what we know. Adapted rules, fewer
(if any) referees, numbers of lines, proximity of coaches on the ice and
other peculiarities just won’t look normal. Will coaches know what to
do, what to teach, how to adapt? Are parents going to be patient? Will
there be a few parent leaders able to step up and help explain how this
will actually benefit the children, that adapting space is what is done
in every children’s activity and hockey has been the last to climb on
board? Better late than never, right?

Who among local association board members will best be able to
clearly address the change by linking it to child development, not just
hockey development? We will need more than just the puffery of elected
officials who might resort to simply quoting the Hockey Canada party
line of “it’s now a rule and we must do it.” These people will need to
be vocally supportive because they’ve educated themselves on the topic
and have already explored how best to make it work in their regions.
Perhaps this change will force associations to have more hockey
technical competencies among its executives, folks whose skills go
beyond the administration work we need to now include more complete
knowledge of development. For instance, two line teams of seven
(including a goalie) to play 3 vs. 3 cross ice, or three line teams of
10? What will be best for the kids, not just expedient for the
registrar?

But finally, this. The winners will be the children whom we don’t ask
how teams should be formed, how many aside, what rules to use, or how
big a space they should play on. They’ve known it all along. Road
hockey, gymnasium floor ball, and local outdoor rink games are all small
space. It’s for fun.

A rule that will circuitously make the game more fun and attractive. What a concept. Hockey Canada: the children thank you.

Cross-ice is on the horizon for every five- to eight-year-old in the country. Initiation Program (IP) next year; novice the year after.

Once the not-so-simple logistics are addressed (see last week’s blog, Cross Ice - Part 2: It’s not just the rink),
we need to train our coaches on how to adapt their teaching techniques
and styles. For the longest time, those of us who prepared adults in IP
clinics had to work mighty hard to convince attendees that even the
terminology needed to change. For five- and six-year-olds, you weren’t
coaching a team; you were leading a group of children as an instructor.
This was a tough sell because of the prevailing belief that without a
team or coach, you couldn’t have hockey per se. Yet if you plunk your
five-year-old into swimming lessons, the swimming instructor is just
that, an instructor. And they’re not in training for a meet. They’re
learning how to float without swallowing the pool.

With cross-ice, it’s again time to insist on the right terminology
for IP kids. There are no teams in IP anyway. That’s just a registration
construct designed only to divide groups of children and assign
jerseys.

Novice will be a bit different because teams actually exist. Now
they’ll be smaller and most likely practising in more limited space,
like inside a blueline. They should have been doing it anyway. However,
because games were full ice, there was an overwhelming sense they had to
practice in the same space. It’s been common for novice teams to have
full ice practices, about as poor an ice utilization model as one could
have. No full soccer pitch ever has just one team of little kids on it.

Since the space will be smaller, the over-used default of flow-type
drills and standing at the boards blowing a whistle will change. The
positive ripple effect on coaching should be automatic. It will be next
to impossible now for a coach working with, say, 12 children inside a
zone to avoid communicating with them and just running flow drills. Team
play stuff will be gone. Team play principles will be the same. For
instance, teaching angling or how two kids can beat one by finding space
and passing will become paramount because that’s what the space will
require they learn to do. Coaches will have to learn the game’s more
ignored nuances and shrink their teaching accordingly.

It means coaches will need to be less tuned in to finding the right
drill for a half or full rink and more focused on learning how to break
down concepts into smaller, manageable bits, and attaching them to key
skills. But where are they going to learn those coaching skills and
teaching techniques?

This is where branches or associations will need to re-examine what
has been an assumption, that coaching novice is merely a scaled down
version of coaching bantam or midget. Coaches mistakenly took that
approach at the expense of proper development. If we train them, we’ll
be back on track.

]]>Tue, 18 Apr 2017 11:53:58 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28314

The axiom says, “Everything is easy before it becomes hard.”

Any coach will agree that when you teach something new, players may
find it challenging, even hard. Once they get the hang of it though,
hard becomes easy and a new hard develops, as in can they do it at game
speed or under greater resistance.

The same will hold true for Hockey Canada mandating cross ice in IP
next season and likely novice the one after. In the beginning,
associations will scramble to figure out how to make this work. You see,
full ice has been easy. Regulation nets and puck are easy. Rules are
easy because the rule book is the same for everyone. How to configure
the ice for just two teams of standard size has been straightforward,
too.

With the mandate, however, comes a raft of more considerations which
will make everything harder. Well, they’re considerations for some. For
those who truly understand children’s growth and needs, they’re a must.

The rink: We’ll now need to schedule for multiple groups on
the ice, perhaps as many as six. Should there be other lines painted on
the cross ice rinks? How many? Why? What colour? School gymnasia have
had multi-coloured lines for various sports for generations. No one’s
complained and it seems to have worked. This will be hard because it
will take research, discussion, agreement and planning. For many hockey
associations, that may be a new experience.

What about separators for the smaller rinks? A two-blueline set could
cost $4-5k, not chump change for most places. Where will the dough come
from? Are there creative and cheap alternatives? Anyone willing to
share those thoughts?

The nets: They need to be smaller which means buying or constructing new ones. And where to store them? Can six small nets be stacked?

The puck: For some odd reason, this is a contentious point.
What is the logical developmental rationale for having kids under 10,
for instance, using the same puck as the pros? No other sport does this.
Whether it should be slightly lighter or just smaller and lighter is
another issue. We already have the 4 oz puck in IP. Why not have a
graduated system so that the novice and atom kids have a 5 oz puck, or
some such?

The scoreboard: There’s just one, but there could be three
games at the same time. What to do about it? Numbered flip charts as in
cross court basketball? Do we need an official score at all? Why?

Rules and officials: What should be changed? Should a
seven-year-old sit out an infraction? What constitutes an infraction
anyway? Offsides? Icing - in cross ice? Do we need referees? How many?

How many registered kids on a team? With more kids on the ice at one time, are the dressing rooms adequate?

It was easy to mandate cross ice for novice (when it becomes official). Making it work will be hard.

]]>Tue, 11 Apr 2017 11:09:50 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28296

In a country where any minute change to our beloved game is looked
upon with suspicion, Hockey Canada’s recent pronouncement that cross ice
games are now to be mandated in the Initiation Program would seem to be
grounds for a parliamentary investigation. As in, good grief, how will
my six-year-old ever be ready for full ice games in novice!? The shame
of it all!

The answer is simple: According to Hockey Canada president Tom
Renney, cross ice hockey will also become mandatory in 2018-19 in
novice. While this hasn’t been much of a secret around branch meetings,
it became public when he said so on Ottawa radio station TSN 1200’s
Grassroots: The minor hockey show on March 18.
In other words, those IP children will transition next year from their
cross ice surfaces to similar rink sizes in the subsequent two years of
novice.

Full disclosure: I’m co-host of that show and we’d been trying since
November to get Renney on the air to discuss this very point. We already
knew he was fully on board with adapting the game to the kids for all
the obvious reasons. He added one more: the retention of players was a
prime concern as was attracting new ones if the game itself was more
appealing. Reducing the rink size and adding other changes would do it,
he felt.

Of course, he’s right but he’s far from the first to discuss the
idea. However, the fact that Hockey Canada is mandating something like
this is a major step forward for development, regardless of whether or
not it’s already happened elsewhere, such as in Europe, the U.S., B.C.,
Saskatchewan and Quebec. For most of the last 30 years, there’s been
nary a word from our governing body to address discrepancies in how the
game is played for children versus teens or adults. Yes, there have been
changes in coaching clinic content and certification as well as the
addition of the Respect in Sport program and the removal of bodychecking
below bantam.

But not since the rollout of the IP in the mid 1980s has Hockey
Canada stood tall and stated it would address a key development issue.
The organization has steadfastly maintained that its 13 branches have
always had considerable autonomy as to how they ran their programs,
including development. This was fine, until it wasn’t when associations
across the land went off half-cocked by allowing children who can’t
spell “hockey” to play full ice games like the pros. The only plausible
solution was for Hockey Canada to mandate cross ice in IP and then
novice the following year.

In other words, the game’s leaders have done the right thing for its youngest participants.

Next week in Cross Ice - Part 2: It’s not just the rink.

]]>Tue, 25 Apr 2017 15:18:08 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28270

Time for a debrief into the mirror. What did you learn from this season?

You can choose to criticize the parental groups or bemoan the fact
your players couldn’t turn both ways. You can also choose to sneer at
the lack of association support when problems arose or a schedule that
roasted your kids in November because they were so tired.

Indeed, you can choose to do all those things and more. But you’d
find yourself getting angry and flustered and questioning why you even
bother. A better approach would be to sit down and reflect – seriously
reflect – on the season, and leave nothing out. The purpose is not to
beat yourself up about what should or shouldn’t have been done. Good
coaches, even great coaches, use a virtual mirror to identify areas of
improvement. For them, how the team finished is almost immaterial.

One year in junior, the team I was with won the championship. It was a
pretty solid group. The night we won it, while at the owner’s
restaurant after the game, one fellow, 21 and graduating, gave me a
congratulatory hug with thanks for helping them reach their goal. “I
could never quite figure you out,” he said. “You kept me guessing all
the time as to what you wanted. Now I know.”

It was meant to be a compliment, which, on the surface, it seems to
have been. Days later, I started thinking about his comment. At 21, he
wasn’t a kid. He was old enough not to take things at face value and
perhaps read too much into what coaches asked. What did he mean, I
wondered? Was I vague or obtuse in my communication with these guys? Did
I keep myself aloof for some untold reason? I wouldn’t say it bothered
me, but it did force me to ask myself many questions about my coaching
approach, despite the team’s tremendous success.

I spent about a month reevaluating how I ran drills, the types of
drills, how I communicated specialty team set-ups, what I said in the
room… in fact, nothing was left off my virtual mirror’s checklist. I
usually do some form of this exercise anyway, but it was my player’s
remark that spurred me to more inward facing than normal.

To some, the danger is to become too reflective, to question
everything we do with our teams. I don’t believe it’s dangerous; in
fact, I believe it’s a necessary part of the coaching process and one of
the essential tools to becoming a better coach. We may question what
we’ve done and, if sincere, it’s likely we’ll often conclude that much
of our work in a season was more than acceptable. But that’s really a
function of one’s standards, isn’t it?

So then, mirror mirror on the wall…

]]>Tue, 28 Mar 2017 12:18:32 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28243

Some years ago, I assisted in the creation of a document to outline
the selection process for elite coaches in a minor hockey district. A
major part of that process involved the interviews. Our thinking was
that interviews needed to be more detailed than what an association
might have in place for recreational or lower level competitive coaches.

It makes sense, doesn’t it? The typical AAA coach, especially at the
bantam and midget levels, deals with so much more than anyone else in
the system. Interview questions should therefore reflect it.

Except for one problem: if someone were to ask every question on the
list, as well as related questions elicited from answers, the interview
would seem more like a six-hour police interrogation. So we had to pare
it down – a lot. In fact, to make it manageable, the interview was
trimmed to the point where I wondered about its worth.

Look at it this way. You’re coaching a team and applying for another
at a different and/or higher level. You’ll have maybe 45 minutes to
explain your philosophy and teaching approach without launching into
anything about what already sits on your résumé. If the interview
committee has only skimmed it – and hopefully that’s at worst – you’ll
need to discuss some experiences and why they enriched you as a coach.
If the committee tosses in a few questions, especially ones asking to
lay out a progression for some tactic or skill, that 45 minutes
dissolves quickly.

Job interviews are stressful enough. But at least there, the
candidate is familiar with the field and probably has some expertise. In
minor hockey, expertise is in the eyes of the interview committee of
which sometimes few have much coaching experience, let alone at an elite
level.

I saw that first hand with one group. A couple of the committee
members tossed coaches questions that were plucked out of the air and
hadn’t been thought out. What do you think of our fair ice time policy?
(Wise_ss answer: It’s patently dumb) What’s the most important part of a
breakout? (Wise_ss answer: For these eight year olds, it‘s retrieving
the puck without going headfirst into the boards.) Nothing was gained
from the interviews. Zero. A waste of everyone’s time.

One association I know of conducts interviews in three stages: Stage 1
is a brief (about 10 mins) overview of philosophy; Stage 2 is more
technical; Stage 3 is more of a combo platter.

To prepare, a coach has to be able to provide something unique about
the approach, complete with a rationale and support. For instance, if
you’re not really going to teach a formal power play to lower level
competitive pee wees, that’s fine, but what exactly will you teach them
and why?

If you want the team, be ready.

]]>Tue, 21 Mar 2017 15:11:06 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28176

Reading will make us smarter, or so went the mantra of one of my
teachers in a Montreal private school. It came on the heels of our
whining about having to read three novels each summer then return in
September to write book reports on each one.

In addition to the
other works we read in class, by the time I graduated, I had read dozens
of books, some long, some short, some okay, some wonderful, some
absolute yawners. None made me smart, let alone smarter. If that were
true, I’d have finished Don Quixote. But what they did manage was to
show me how books could expose me to worlds unimaginable otherwise.

This
notion carried me into my coaching and still does. As a teacher, I had
to slog through curricula and ministry of education documents. Rare was
the educational or psychology text that struck a chord. Whatever skills I
obtained came from books about coaching or coaches.

For
instance, Bobby Orr’s "Orr: My Story" has many points that should
resonate with hockey coaches and parents, and not because Orr was Orr.
It’s because he’s right. He wrote, “The greatest system any coach can
pass along is allowing kids to create and refine skills.” Argue that at
your own peril.

Works by Malcolm Gladwell, Daniel Coyle, Anders
Ericsson, among many others, provide treasure troves of information on
what we should do as coaches and leaders in our game. One of the more
revealing questions in Hockey Canada’s High Performance assessment
requires coaches to read two books about or related to coaching and
review them, providing explanations for the choices and why they
resonated. It’s like a throwback to my school days, except now I get to
see others do it for more precise reasons.

I can’t say how much
coaches read these days or if what they read is about coaching. Hockey
Canada has tried in its High Performance program to instill in coaches a
willingness to improve themselves through self-learning. It’s
impossible to say how successful that is, but I do feel that reading
related works is vitally important to a coach’s development.

Perhaps
I should blame my schooling for making me believe books would actually
improve the ability of my mental synapses to fire in the right
direction. I revel in my delusions. Yet I still look for gems that might
pry open another tiny window into my coaching world. Not long ago I was
given "Hockey: It’s All In The Head" by Sylvain Guimond, whose son I
coached in junior. Guimond is the sports psychologist of the Montreal
Canadiens. While the translated version has some stilted language, it
has a plenty of interesting nuggets. I’m on my second reading of it.

Don Quixote will have to wait - again.

]]>Tue, 14 Mar 2017 12:36:41 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28144

Is what parents say about the coach important?

That depends:
On the thickness of your skin
On how reflective you are about your coaching (if you’re reflective at all)
On the relationship you had with your team’s parents
On what was the objective in getting their feedback
On what they’ve said in the past about coaches
On what they think they know about coaching a minor hockey team
On what you think they think they know about coaching a minor hockey team
On the – perish the thought – possibility they could be right about some things

The parent of a boy I coached once took me to task on how I
approached his son in the room about his pre-game preparation. This
occurred in front of other parents at a general “how’s it going”
gathering. Believing it wasn’t such a big issue as he made it out to be
and since he got the somewhat tilted story from his son, I took it in
stride. Some other parents backed me and ripped into him. Later in the
season, he did tell me that while I was a very good coach, he didn’t at
all agree with what I said to the boy, which was, “Are you getting ready
for the game as I’ve asked you to?”

It could very well be that for years this parent may trash me because of it. Oh well.

Early in my coaching days, with a high level bantam team of marginal
ability, there was a boy who was a major troublemaker. At 14, he was
already known to local police. His dressing room behaviour and language
were an issue that I took to his dad. I figured parents could be mature
and objective about a kid they knew was a problem. Ah yes, the naïveté
of my youth.

Turned out the dad was a large part of the problem. He was a jerk. He
lambasted me for mishandling his son and made a couple of subtle
threats. I backed off, turned tail, and didn’t deal with the kid again
that season on anything other than his play. That summer he was arrested
for breaking and entering. The point is, I should have considered the
source.

Frankly, I do consider parents’ opinions important. But not about how
to teach a skill or tactic, how to design a drill or practice, or
whether we should employ a particular type of forecheck. It is important
to listen to them and have frank dialogues about their kids. Parents
though need to understand that, in most cases, minor hockey coaches
aren’t professionals at either teaching or coaching. Coaches do what
they can with what they’ve got.

One question: how civil can each party be in the sometimes-volatile world of children’s sport?

]]>Tue, 07 Mar 2017 14:17:07 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28119

How do you know when it’s the right time to aspire to coach at a higher level?

First, consider the definition of higher level. In the minds of some,
a higher level simply means older players. In the European club model
system, the best technical coaches work with the younger children. This
doesn’t happen in Canada, which perhaps helps explain why our technical
development isn’t where it could be. Our coaches all seem to see
themselves as tacticians ready to spring the latest and greatest
forecheck systems on opponents. Focused as we are on the product rather
than the process, we don’t recognize the vital role of those teaching
the six- to 10-year-olds in preparing them to be able to execute those
forechecks.

With that, we’re back to your ‘higher level’ dreams. There’s nothing
inherently wrong about wanting to coach older, better players. To some
degree, there’s a certain attraction to working with the best athletes.
What people don’t often realize until they’re well into it is that this
brings its own challenges: greater expectations to win, more demanding
parents, a tremendous increase in time on the ice (requiring more
preparation), working with more staff – and with it all the coach’s
intrinsic need to achieve.

Qualifications merely unlock the door. If you need a certain level of
certification, go get it. All that does is put a stamp of minimal
competence on your skills. It was never meant to be more than that. As
to needing to climb the ladder, I’m not so sure that’s required either,
though it certainly enhances coaching skills and builds a solid résumé.

I suppose a good gauge of when to know it’s time for a new challenge
is when your current and recent past coaching gigs have become sort of
boring. Been there, done that, time to move on. The tougher question
becomes, should you just coach a higher calibre of the same age group?
Some coaches have a type of comfort zone where they feel most at home,
such as working with 10 to 12-year-olds. While they’re experienced and
competent at the pee wee AAA or AA levels, going to bantam presents
challenges they just don’t want to face.

This is even truer going from, say, bantam to midget or junior. Those
worlds are vastly different. For instance, you go from counting on
parents to push their kids or drive them to the rink to the players
driving themselves and having distractions you’ve probably forgotten
you, too, once had.

From what I’ve witnessed, jumping to older age groups isn’t often the
right move. It’s a difficult decision to wrestle with: Do you really
need to do it? - vs - How can kids benefit from your expertise?

]]>Tue, 28 Feb 2017 12:59:04 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28068

Whoever says the media or the pros don’t influence us hasn’t spent
much time talking with minor hockey coaches. Every now and then, I have
to give my head a vigorous shake when I hear a coach talk about his team
or approach as if they’re adults being paid a couple of million to
play.

“He can’t play within the system we’ve been working on.”This was the response of a coach of seven-year-old house leaguers
when asked to explain why a boy who’d been splitting his role between
goalie and forward could no longer do it as the playoffs began; he had
to stay in goal and ride the bench every second game. The parent was,
justifiably, rather upset. This coach doesn’t seem to have a handle on
what these children need. They’re in grade two. I’m not so sure they can
even spell the word “system.”

“We could use more secondary scoring.”In other words, wouldn’t it be great if more than just the team’s top
two kids could put the puck in the net? Well sure, every coach at every
well wants that. So, coach, how much time are you spending in practice
teaching passing, shooting, and scoring? How many opportunities are you
giving the less skilled shooters to even do that?

“We have two power play units and neither one seems to be doing the job.”This was a bantam coach. Now let’s remember that minor hockey is a
three-line, six defencemen (usually) game. If he has two so-called
units, that eats up 10 of the 15 skaters. What’s left is, in his mind, a
group of kids incapable of playing with a man advantage. Not exactly a
self-esteem boost for them, is it? It would seem this coach hasn’t
bothered to teach the principles of offence or power play before the
much ballyhooed setup.

“Our practices get us ready for the next game.”An unequivocal ‘no’ to this statement uttered by the coach of
nine-year-old competitive level players. That should never be the
objective nor even a small part of the objective. It would be like
saying the reason why the grade fours are doing basic sentence structure
in English class is so that they can complete a proper 500-word essay
by the end of the month. It’s nonsense on a number of levels, the most
important one being the focus needing to be on process, not product.

“We’ve talked a lot about getting pucks to the net.”No kidding. Who hasn’t? This peewee coach at least recognizes a
fundamental offensive precept: if you don’t shoot, you don’t score. But
for children, that idea needs to be shaped more for them to understand
just how to go about it. Talk is nice; action is better.

Perhaps it’s time to turn off the hockey broadcasts and work on communication with kids at their level.

...However much fun it was as a kid to be in the room with buddies,
it’s no different with coaching staffs. Once we’re done deciding who
will do what in practice, it’s down to the business of ribbing each
other about our shots, our mobility, our diminished speed, and who will
fall first. Then comes the important reflective moments when each of us
hopes the other will tumble so we can guffaw loudly in front of the
kids. Gotta love it.

...I’m demonstrating a one-timer to atom kids. They don’t know my
shot sucks. Always has. So I ask the other coach to pass me the puck
verrrrrrry slooooowwwwwly, which he does. And I demonstrate also
verrrrrrry slooooowwwwwly. The puck arrives in my wheelhouse and I
connect perfectly. The shot rings off the goalpost. The kids cheer. Did
you see Coach Richard’s shot!? Wow! For about one second, I love my
shot.

...I’m asked by a hockey organization to do a presentation on
creativity in practice, something I’ve done a few times before. But I
don’t know the coaches, their hockey culture, their practice approaches,
or even how successful their teams are. I fly blind. One thing I’ve
learned over the decades is that you can never really tell from coaches’
demeanour if they like a presentation. But when we get on the ice and I
walk them through some things, their eyes light up. Ice demos nearly
always seal the deal. As does this one. The organizer tells me later it
was all terrific, just what they wanted. I drive home sort of satisfied.
Because it’s a long drive, I stop for a coffee, which I know will keep
me up. But it doesn’t matter that night.

...A coach has me come on the ice to do a session on body checking
skills. Early on, the kids are working in pairs doing some bumping
exercises along the boards. The next progression is learning how to
“break stride” and angle off an opponent. This is where the smaller or
physically weaker kids become tentative because they think they need to
hammer someone to succeed. I use the smallest player, the checker, to
demo the technique against the biggest one, the checkee. The little guy
sees instantly that if he just gets slightly ahead of the big guy, he
can check him safely and properly. They do it a couple of times and I
tell the bigger kid to go a bit faster, which he does. But the small kid
again stops him cold on the boards because he broke the boy’s stride. I
high-five the checker whose broad smile lights up the rink.

We coaches own plenty more of such tales that make us love coaching.

]]>Tue, 14 Feb 2017 08:26:09 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28036

In their exuberance to provide players nearly the entire hockey
curriculum in one season, coaches frequently jam a host of drills into a
practice. I’ve seen 50-minute practices with as many as eight drills,
exclusive of the warmup and final fun activity. Well-meaning? Yes.
Effective? Not really.

There’s a culture in minor hockey that more is always better. More
practices, longer practices, more coaches on the ice, more off-ice
session, more private instruction, more games, more tournaments, more
seasons (as in, add spring and summer). Almost none of it is truly
better. So it shouldn’t be a surprise that coaches succumb to these same
pressures. They try to cover off multiple skills and tactics in a
single practice. Sometimes, in one drill, there’d be a breakout, neutral
zone play, odd-man rush then battle for the puck low in the zone. The
coach would need a play manual and four extra sets of eyes to both track
it all and give directed feedback.

What’s more, the sheer number of drills means that not much time can
be spent on each one. The obvious result is that players get fewer reps.
This is no trivial matter. In fact, in the list of key teaching
approaches, repetition and directed feedback are at the top. These do go
hand-in-hand. You can have drills with lots of reps, but if there’s no
proper feedback, the players merely learn to perfect their errors.

It’s a tricky balance though to decide when players have had enough
in a drill. What’s the gauge or measure to change it up? Fatigue?
Perceived mastery? Boredom? Getting the hang of it? This is where that
intangible we might call “a feel for coaching” steps in. But that’s
beginning with the end.

Unless youngsters have sufficient time to both learn the drill, in
the case of some more complex ones, and be able to apply the necessary
learning to it, not much has been accomplished other than to show off a
drill.

We adults have mostly forgotten what it was like to learn a new
sports skill and how long it took to reach even a modest level of
competence with it. But this applies to most physical skills, doesn’t
it? Learning guitar chords, piano scales, a tennis serve, or even
putting on your winter tires are all acquired skills. All took time to
grasp. That time in hockey is more or less synonymous with providing
kids enough reps to at least feel confident. This would allow them, when
the next skill or tactic is presented, to at least feel comfortable
with the next stage in their learning.

It only happens when coaches allow lots of reps - with the right feedback.

]]>Tue, 07 Feb 2017 11:23:24 -0400/blog/redirect?id=28000

Minor hockey would effectively eliminate many parental complaints if
it created a rule whereby shifts were determined by the clock. One
minute or two minutes or whatever – buzzer! – change lines. Novice,
bantam, house or AAA. Guaranteed equal ice for everyone. Simple.

In fact, there are associations in Canada that use a buzzer system to
regulate shift length. I spoke recently to the president of one in
British Columbia and it works just fine – with novice age kids. I
suppose that when the children hit atom, parental storms about
equalizing ice will begin anew.

The sport and equal ice – without a buzzer-like system – are mutually
exclusive. Coaches try everything humanly possible to do it. Nothing
works perfectly. Some kids will not come off when called while others
choose to ignore the bench calls. It’s worse with the younger kids. By
the time they reach bantam, they may expect equal ice time but are old
enough to understand how hard it is to achieve.

Then there’s fair ice time. I’ve read many association rules and
bylaws and there’s an interesting variety of definitions. Fair over one
game, or fair over a season? Last minute is for the coach or last three
minutes or just whatever it takes to close gap in the score? Power
plays? Penalty kills? Fair ice time policies seem to be almost
exclusively indigenous to competitive programs, and it’s a rather
slippery slope.

If you allow coaches latitude, however narrow, in assigning ice,
you’re also implying that the game result takes precedence over
developing the kids. That may be okay with bantam or midget AAA.
Elsewhere, I’m not so sure. And in minor hockey, where there are only
three lines of forwards and defencemen, shortening the bench is a good
deal harder.

Some places tell coaches that fair ice time must be over a season.
But that serves only to delay the problem. The coach uses his best kids
in December to eke out those wins or ties, then when February hits, he
has to use the others to balance the ice allotment. Managing this is
fraught with other problems, such as the coach trying to decide who gets
to sit or not and when and what will the parental pushback be.

The conundrum is really based on the value we place on results rather
than process. A common refrain is, “If Joey had been on in those last
seconds, we might have had a chance to win.” Maybe Joey isn’t up to the
task. Maybe Joey has already had extra ice in a few earlier games and
the result didn’t change. Or maybe the game result should just be what
it is while the coach focuses attention on what worked (or didn’t) and
teach accordingly.

Any way you cut it, it’s a tough call.

]]>Tue, 31 Jan 2017 15:11:21 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27923

A key component of the field evaluations for Development 1 and High
Performance certifications is the discussion the evaluator has with the
coach before and after practices or games. It’s designed to not only
provide an assessment but also be a mentoring experience. Here’s where
the field evaluator can give the coach some guidance.

To be clear, this isn’t a true mentoring situation. It can’t be, of
course, since the evaluator and coach meet only once or twice. The
question is, though, should mentors, in their normal environments do
evaluations of any sort of the coaches they work with? This has produced
interesting discussions with mentor colleagues. Most feel they
shouldn’t.

Mentoring is a trust relationship. Often discussions with coaches are
less about how to teach a skill or tactic than “soft” issues like
problem-solving issues with players or parents. I recall the time during
a tryout camp when a troubled AAA coach sidled up to me to discuss a
dissertation-like email he got from a parent who whined about whom his
little darling was on a line with and why those kids would not present
“Joey” in the best light. The coach and I spent about 20 minutes
examining the issue. He already knew how to approach it (ignore the
email and carry on); he just wanted to bend someone’s ear. Mine was
available.

That’s just one of many examples I’ve experienced. So whenever I hear
of a mentor who has, as part of his job description, the evaluation of
coaches, I wonder on what basis I could possible give that AAA chap a
score. One fellow told me recently he looks at how the coach was at the
beginning of a season and then at the end and arrives at an assessment
accordingly. Really? What do you assess him on? Are we giving scores for
how much the coach listened to the mentor’s advice? What if the advice
is garbage? Is the coach expected to suck up in order to score better?

In other words, what are the criteria for evaluation? Moreover, what’s the objective?

Do coaches improve their techniques over a season? I suppose so. But
like the kids playing the game, it’s usually a long-term development.
During a season, a coach may fine tune aspects of his approach. A mentor
may suggest less time spent at the rink board, or more engagement from
assistants, or more time spent on stick checking skills, etc. The coach
though may feel some of these, while proper, are inconsistent with his
plan or vision for the moment. It very well may be that stick checking
is on his list, but isn’t a priority because once he got the team, he
recognized some real deficiencies in some other skills he considers
priorities.

Mentors who evaluate or assess their coaches risk denting or damaging a valuable relationship. It’s not worth it.

]]>Tue, 24 Jan 2017 11:11:48 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27908

When you’re coaching a team in a game, you get caught up in the
moments. The shift changes, the missed plays, the whines on the bench,
the reactions and overreactions, the uncalled calls… It’s an immersion
in kid management while still trying to balance ice time and give
feedback which you pray will be useful then applied.

There are few opportunities to sort of sit back and observe exactly
what your players are or aren’t doing. So when I was asked to be a guest
coach for a weekend with my buddy’s AAA minor bantam squad, I was
afforded a chance that’s probably rare.

He and I talked before and after games about the nature of his kids,
what their skills were like, and where this team was heading. I wanted
to see it for myself. No matter how many hockey games I’ve coached,
every one is a new learning experience, as this was as well.

As the late great Yogi Berra once said, “You can observe a lot by just watching.” Here’s what I observed:

• The kids are in grade 8. Ask anyone who teaches that level about
the wildly disparate levels of understanding and communication skills.
It’s the same in hockey. We get caught up in their obvious technical
skills and, at our peril as coaches, ignore the mental part of teaching
the game

• Pre-game reminders and speeches don’t carry much weight unless the
content is directly connected to what’s been taught before. And, as
I’ve often stated, just because it’s been taught doesn’t mean it’s been
learned. I asked the defencemen before one game about what they been
told their defensive zone responsibilities were. Only a couple had a
handle on it. I found myself asking pointed questions to get them closer
to the answers.

• Situational awareness. I’m not sure what else to call it. Tactical
understanding? Hockey IQ? What I saw were situations where options were
presented and kids either didn’t see those options or chose the least
effective ones, often ones that were easiest. It’s hard to say over my
short stay if that was because of a lack of confidence or skill
deficiency or poor training. The simplest example: offensive support.
This was sorely lacking. Throughout the games, I witnessed kids (from
all teams) trying to do things alone because there was no help
available. Also, kids sometimes sort of wandered around the ice not
knowing where to go to help the puck carrier. Where does this lack of
situational awareness come from? Should it be taught in its most basic
form at the youngest ages? Indeed.

• I’d forgotten just how easily dismayed or buoyed these kids can
become. Most of my time in recent years has been with older players. At
13, children (yes, they’re still children, something else we tend to
forget) are not quite sure what to make of themselves. They react,
overreact, show confusion, unbridled joy and enthusiasm at once, and
mostly want to have fun.

It was a valuable learning experience for this fellow.

]]>Tue, 17 Jan 2017 10:36:25 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27889

There
are some practice situations that leave coaches scratching their heads.
One is the first practice following a long Christmas break. You can bet
the kids have done practically nothing from a hockey or conditioning
standpoint. Unlike pros or juniors who, even during rest sojourns,
manage some form of maintenance training, minor players probably spent
the break lounging on a couch. Yes, it’s needed, but it leaves the coach
with an awkward conundrum.

Invariably your team gets one, perhaps two, practices then jumps back
into games. Do you ease the kids back into practice mode and hope
they’re geared up for that first post-turkey game? Do you work them hard
right away to get them back into game shape? Do you review key skills
or tactics? At what intensity? Walk them through some group tactics? Do
flow drills?

It’s a tough call.

Here’s what one coach did with a single 50-minute practice after a
10-day layoff and immediately before two consecutive games. It was a
competitive minor bantam group.

Drill 1 (12 mins.): Pairs raced from one end to the other, battling
for a puck and a shot. Work-rest ratio of 1:3 in a high intensity
opening drill

Drill 2 (5 mins.): In 3s on a circle, 2 kids pass to a player who
skates forward to backward to forward, always facing a passer. Work-rest
ratio of 1:2, but a low intensity drill.

Drill 3 (12 mins): Breakout 3 forwards with 2 def. and attack 2
defence to the other end. Medium speed drill with some work on
positioning.

Drill 4 (9 mins.): Forward on Defenceman from neutral zone stop and
go, both ends at the same time. A few more frequent reps for the dee
while the forwards went about once every 4 reps. High speed with
adequate rest between reps.

Drill 5 (10 mins: Cross-ice small area game of 3 vs. 3

At first, the drill sequence seems a bit odd, especially at the
beginning when the low intensity passing drill was done second and at
the end, when the 1 vs. 1 occurred after the small group tactic drill.
But it all worked on a number of levels, namely:

Three of the five drills were fairly intense and involved
competitive situations. Two of those were 1 vs. 1 situations, which
heightened the intensity.

There were two solid skill-based technical drills, one of which was a
fine review of previously taught passing and skating transition skills.

The sole group tactic drill was just enough to get the brains in gear.

Finishing with a cross-ice game added that fun and edgy component.

This was a well-thought out answer to a tough question: what to do for that turkey burn?

The next night, the team won 8-2.

]]>Tue, 10 Jan 2017 11:48:36 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27877

I wonder…

… why isn’t more time spent training coaches on discipline
techniques? Granted, as parents, we pretty much learn as we go. Read all
the books you want about parenting, but it still comes down to the
relationship a parent has with a child. As coaches though, we’re dealing
with virtual strangers. We see these kids a bunch of hours each week
and except they’ll fall into line with whatever we do or say.

While the national coaching program provides solid advice on
communication skills and ethical decision making, there’s nothing at all
on any form of discipline. In fact, few associations provide much
guidance, either overtly or in rules and regs, on how to deal with
typical problems. This means coaches have to fend for themselves.
Shouldn’t we provide coaches with guidance on this?

… how coaches are able to rationalize full ice practices for under
10s, yet would consider full field soccer, with 11 aside, ridiculous.
Little kids just don’t need all that space.

… why passing skills and tactics are taught so little.

… why everyone isn’t completely on board with the Hockey Canada
checking clinic progressions. This wasn’t thrown together by a bunch of
board-level poobahs. It was a carefully thought out and designed program
by technical experts whose foundation came 30 years ago and has evolved
into something that can be started with novices. Not body checking,
just checking skills. Skating balance, stick checking, angling and such.
It’s just not taught enough nor early enough.

… what would happen if parents from opposing teams were asked to sit
with each other during games and, you know, have civil chit-chats.

… why opposing coaches, especially at the more elite levels in minor,
often treat each other like they’re each diseased and barely
acknowledge the other’s existence in the rink.

… how come coaches, at the beginning of games, gather their little
charges at the bench for another minute-long game prep session when they
were supposed to have done it in the room? Yak-yak-yak… never mind…
let’s play.

… how come arena coffee is universally awful.

… why more coaches don’t invest in large, thick dry erase markers,
tape them to their sticks, and draw dots or Xs on the ice rather than
use those infernal pylons.

… if USA Hockey’s youngsters will indeed be better skilled in a few years because of its small ice games approach.

… if it even matters that they’re better skilled so long as the
children enjoy the game more because it’s more suited to their
developmental needs.

… if you’re looking forward to 2017 and how the game grows as much as I am.

]]>Tue, 03 Jan 2017 15:18:32 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27855

We’re approaching the end of 2016, but the hockey season is only
midway. In fact, in some competitive locales, the regular season ends in
January. Does anyone else have difficulty understanding that?

It’s about now though when organizations should be looking ahead, and
not just to hiring coaches or setting up spring tryouts (something else
I don’t understand). One basic question must be asked: where are we
going with our program? As the oft stated caveat says, if you don’t know
where you’re going, any road will take you there.

Coach selection is a good place to start. In competitive programs,
the process begins as early as late January. This must be a little
unsettling for incumbents to see people hovering overhead wanting their
jobs with the season still underway. House leagues often wait until the
spring or later. In both cases, does the association know the kind of
coach it is seeking?

Parent or non-parent coaches? At what ages or levels? I know of an
ex-pro who publicly wondered why his friend, another ex-pro, was not
awarded a AAA coaching job. It didn’t matter that his friend had no
minor coaching background nor certification. As well, the organization
didn’t want parent coaches, which he was. At least they had a plan and
rationale for it, even if you don’t agree.

On the point of coach selection, where do you put your strongest
technical people? Is that even a consideration? What about coaches whose
communication skills are excellent but are technically average or
worse? Should competent coaches, especially ones who are technically
proficient, have teams for more than a couple of years? Example: both
years of novice and atom. Why? Why not?

In other words, does the organization have an idea where it’s going with development?

Which is the ideal segue to the issue of having a development plan…
is there one? As plans are made to select coaches, is the association
sharing with them their vision for development? It’s a pretty important
point. Without one, a coach can go to an interview or write on his
application just about anything (short of extremes, like power plays in
novice) and it should be acceptable. On what grounds can the association
argue otherwise?

Moving back to the overall vision for an association, where is it
going with respect to further training for its coaches? One can’t rely
solely on the coaching certification program. It’s impossible for the
NCCP to provide comprehensive training. So then, given a vision for what
the association needs, where does it want to go in further developing
its coaches, too?

In other words, what road to take?

]]>Fri, 23 Dec 2016 14:40:22 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27820

A practice plan is not the same as practice structure.

As a rule, we do a decent job of showing coaches what constitutes a
basic practice plan, that there are elements practices must have. We see
outlines in coaching clinics, manuals, and online. There shouldn’t be a
minor coach in Canada who doesn’t know it.

Structure, however, takes that fundamental plan and shapes it to
situations and times of the season. It takes into account fitness
principles like intensity of drills, game schedules, numbers of players
attending and other variables.

Therefore the structure of practices is largely variable. Competitive
level teams with multiple practices per week may devote large chunks of
each or even entire practices to certain skills or tactics. Yes, the
principles of practice still need to be there: fitness, fun, feedback
and so on. I recall seeing one coach not long ago who spent nearly an
entire early season practice on team play without having ever introduced
individual or small group tactics first. It didn’t work. The practice
was ponderous and boring.

Let’s say a coach wants to steer away from the routine practice
structure and just do flow drills one evening. Why not? As long as the
drills are age and level appropriate and there are sufficient feedback
interventions, it should work. It’s an atypical structure but there’s a
reason for it. Similarly, a coach decides to forego drills entirely and
just have small area games. As long as the reasons are justified (eg.
increase the compete level of a AA or AAA team), this is also
acceptable.

Along this same line of atypical practices, a coach wants to devote
the entire session to puck handling and passing drills. Does the coach
understand that, while skill work is important, it can become tedious?
This practice will need a mix of high and low intensity drills with some
challenges in order to keep the players engaged. Basic drills won’t cut
it for long. Moreover, skill work needs to be fun. What kid wants to
work at something that is, well, work?

With a practice, there have to be ebbs and flows. The rest periods
are an obvious low intensity point as are the coaching interventions,
when feedback is given. But even then, a coach may choose to have a flow
drill run for 10 minutes with no stoppages and instruction given only
at the beginning of it.

What’s wrong with a practice that has nine 5-minute drills? Nothing, even though the structure is contrary to the norm.

Is a coach wrong to have a practice with all high-intensity drills of
varying types? Again, no, because we can’t tell at first glance the
rationale behind this different structure. Perhaps the coach has a
stretch of two weeks with no games and five practices, so he/she feels
it necessary to maintain some intensity and an “edge.”

It’s okay to fiddle with practice structure if it’s for the right reasons.

]]>Tue, 20 Dec 2016 13:48:04 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27803

We know practice planning is important. So, too, is practice structure, which is something quite different.

Yes, every coach needs to learn to plan what goes into a practice.
But what goes into it and when and why are the hallmarks of the more
complete coach. For instance, let’s examine a really difficult practice
situation. You’ve just returned from an out-of-town tournament a couple
of hours away. Your team played five games in less than 72 hours, having
reached the semifinals on Sunday afternoon. Then you’ve got a practice
on Monday evening and a game Tuesday.

What form does that practice take? The kids are physically and
probably mentally spent. While a practice is expected to have certain
elements like warm up, technical instruction, tactical instruction, fun
and cool down, this particular one presents a special challenge.

What do you do when your team is playing four league games and has
five practices over a ten-day span? How do you temper your own
enthusiasm to teach lots of cool things with what the kids will be able
to absorb?

And in recreational hockey, it’s not unusual for a team to go two or
three weeks without a practice, then have a couple bundled in one
weekend.

These are instances where the practice structure needs to change,
sometimes to the extreme. I’ve seen coaches who, in similar situations,
ran slow warm-ups, a couple of simple technical drills, a cross-ice
small area game, then sent them off the ice 15 minutes early. There’ve
been coaches of older teams, say bantam and up, who did some base
tactical and positioning work and finished with some kind of fun
activity like a shoot out.

That recreational level coach has to practically hit the “reset
learning and expectations” button when the team goes so long without a
practice.

We need to keep in mind that no one but the coach, who’s spent every
minute with the team, knows how much the kids can handle. For the most
part, they know when enough is enough or too much. Where things break
down a bit though is how to reformulate the practice structure to take
the situation into account as well as conditioning and learning
principles. As well, how intense should practices at awkward times be?
How hard should the drills be?

There can’t be any one answer to any of these questions simply
because we’re dealing with a wide spectrum of abilities and ages. Still,
there are some key points a coach needs build in. Next week, I’ll delve
into some of those.

]]>Tue, 13 Dec 2016 11:06:06 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27790

While teaching in hockey schools, I earned a marvelous education in how to/not to conduct teaching sessions using stations.

Granted, off-season hockey schools require a different approach than
in-season teams. One major difference is the sheer numbers. It’s not
unusual for schools to have 40 or more children on the ice. You can have
quite a disparate array of skills on the ice, so homogeneous groups in
stations is essential.

With a team, setting up stations for skill or multitask skill
instruction is trickier. As I wrote last week, the number of stations
should be dependent on the number of quality coaches you have available.
But there’s another factor: do you spend a specified amount of time in
each station or change stations only when most of the kids have done
enough reps to show they’re getting somewhere with the skill?

Normally, coaches set a time frame per station and rotate once that
time is reached, regardless of whether the kids showed improvement in
the skill. This makes sense for a few reasons. For one, we’re locked
into a tight time period on the ice. There’s no flexibility such as in a
classroom or on a soccer field. As well, it’s much more manageable.
Thirdly, it mostly eliminates the coaching burden of determining when
exactly it’s time to move on.

From a learner’s perspective though, rotating stations according to
the kids’ needs and improvement makes more sense. You could tell coaches
they’ll rotate sometime within a 10-15 minute block. Then, during the
teaching, speak to each coach to find out if their kids are showing some
progress. Eventually, of course, you have to rotate in order to get the
desired skills covered. In station 1, maybe the kids are doing fine
with their puck handling. But in station 2, the tight turns aren’t going
well. Station 3’s back stride is okay. So one group is not improving.
What to do?

A solution: instead of rotating the players, leave them with the same
coach for the entire teaching session. For instance, if 30 minutes have
been assigned to station work, you can have one coach work with a group
of kids going through all three skills. Then that coach can determine
when to move on according to the kids’ needs. He may spend only 5
minutes on puck handling and 10 on back skating, but 15 on those turns
because that’s the weak skill.

The obvious downside? What if that coach is not strong at teaching
all three skills? This is where it’s important to brief coaches before
practice and ensure they’re capable of doing the required teaching.

With a little more thought put into teaching through stations, you can get kids to improve at a pace that’s right for them.

]]>Tue, 06 Dec 2016 13:29:34 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27751

The use of stations is widely accepted as one of the best ways to
cover a lot of ground in a sport teaching environment. Stations are used
in varying ways at every age level and calibre. Even when defencemen
and forwards are split for specific drills, it’s really a type of
station approach.

There are, however, a number of elements related to using stations
that coaches probably haven’t considered very much. For one, are all
coaches capable of running a station? Let’s say the head coach, in a
half-ice practice, has 15 skaters, two goalies and three assistants. Of
the three assistants, one works only with the goalies. Another is a
parent who’s there merely to help out but has no real coaching or
teaching skills. How many stations should this team have?

The answer is two, not three and especially not four. Now the retort
might be that with only two stations, not much skill work or multi-task
instruction can be covered. True, but what is covered will be more
efficiently taught. Since the goalie assistant works just with goalies,
he/she can’t be expected nor asked to govern a station. Another
assistant isn’t really there for much more than setting up, organizing
and whatnot. This leaves the head coach and one key assistant to run
stations. With two people on the staff who are competent teachers, the
kids in the two stations will get the proper feedback and instruction.

If this team were to go with three stations, there would be one where
the players are merely being drilled, not taught, simply because the
particular coach overseeing the station doesn’t have the tools to do it.
Why even put him/her in such a situation?

A sad reality of station work in minor hockey is how little
consideration is given to the skills of the coaches running them. One
coach told me at a coaching clinic how he reviews the stations with his
assistants to ensure they know an activity’s expectations and skill
teaching points. To which I asked if he often has the opportunity to
watch carefully what his assistants are doing. No, he said, he’s too
preoccupied running his own station. In theory, his briefing others
coaches is perfect. In practice though, just because a coach has been
given a plan doesn’t mean he’s able to implement it and its components
properly.

This presents another problem. If the head coach, who presumably has
most of the key coaching and teaching tools as well as training, is
himself running a station, who’s seeing to it the other coaches are
doing what’s asked?

Effective use of assistants is integral to the proper running of a
team, especially in practice. With the objective of providing kids the
optimal instructional environment, the head coach needs to know how to
best use assistants’ skills.

]]>Tue, 29 Nov 2016 13:49:11 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27727

The coach looks at the slide of rink diagrams depicting options to
divide the rink for practice. Most make sense. One, where the rink is
cut diagonally, raises questions. Under what circumstances would a coach
run a practice in a triangular piece of rink? I couldn’t think of one.

Then there’s the slide with a slice down the middle of the surface,
from net to net. The coach says he’s used it for his team during shared
practices for the warm up. The kids skate up and down the length for a
few minutes (as does the other team) before they revert to half ice
across the middle for the rest of the time.

I pose some questions. If both teams are warming up doing the same
sorts of things, why bother to split the ice at all? Which coach
determines when they stop? If they’re cooperating on that, then why not
just run the warm-up together? Besides, have we not had enough of long
linear skating exercises? Don’t we need more agility and curvilinear
movements? The coach nods in agreement.

Minor hockey actually hasn’t done a great job of maximizing practice
ice nor training coaches how to do it properly. I often see teams of
seven-, eight- and nine-year-olds having full ice practices with coaches
seemingly feeling obligated to run the same drills as juniors. I say
obligated because it looks as though, given full ice, they feel the need
to run drills that use the entire surface. In fact, kids below peewee
can have a very effective practice in half the ice. I’ve also seen
plenty of peewee and bantam teams run terrific practices in small
spaces.

Associations neither encourage nor train coaches how to run shared
ice practices using a combination of stations and individual tactical
drills. In that scenario, the two head coaches would combine their
practice plans so that in effect it would be a single practice for a
30-player team. It requires communication and cooperation.

Instead, what we see are two teams at similar levels of the same age
group running entirely separate sessions. While, indeed, the skill sets
may differ, developmentally there are more commonalities than
differences. If we put tier 2 and tier 3 competitive atom teams on the
same sheet, there’s actually not much difference between the bottom few
kids on the tier 2 team and the top kids on the tier 3. Besides, since
kids need instruction on skills and individual tactics, it’s not hard to
create stations or drills that focus on those and just set aside the
team stuff for a while.

Oh, and one other reason to put two teams on one sheet: It’s half the cost!

]]>Tue, 22 Nov 2016 16:08:01 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27681

A common refrain among parents and even most coaches used to be that a
practice was worthwhile if the kids left the ice sweating. In fact, in
all that equipment and even with a modicum of effort, a kid can’t help
but sweat.

How then do we gauge the fitness
component of a practice? Let me put it this way: if you workout at a
gym, when you’re done, are you so exhausted that returning to the car is
more a crawl than a walk? Yes, you’ve been sweating. Perspiration is
hardly a gauge for effort in practice.

Kids do want
to be challenged physically and mentally as long as the challenges are
consistent with their skills. In practice, it means conducting
activities that don’t just challenge them but also have varying levels
of intensity. In training parlance, we refer to it as a work:rest ratio
(w:r). A drill where 10 kids are waiting their turn while two others
work has a poor w:r of 1:5. In a minor hockey game where a team has
three lines and six defencemen, when rolling the lines, the w:r is 1:3.
So having the kids work in practice at an intensity much lower than a
game is hardly helpful.

But practice drills can’t
only be described in terms of their w:r. The coach also needs to be
mindful of each drill’s overall intensity. For instance, when teaching
puck handling, a coach has all the kids going at once, slowly weaving
through pylons. The w:r is excellent because they’re all involved, The
drill’s intensity though is low. That’s likely a good thing for poorly
skilled kids learning something new.

If you’re
teaching power play options to forwards at a higher and older
competitive level, again the w:r may be terrific. But the intensity is
deliberately low – and it needs to be, too, because the players are
learning something new. Speed and technique are mutually exclusive terms
in almost all minor hockey practice situations.

One
AAA coach asked me about how to increase practice intensity. He didn’t
know about w:r. He also had been going by the old time habit of hard
skating drills for a few minutes in the middle or at the end of
practice. I explained that, from a conditioning standpoint, these have
no merit and are a complete turnoff. However, if the practice drills are
mentally engaging, with 1:2 or 1:3 ratios at varying intensities, the
conditioning is built into the practice. It’s got to replicate a shift
where, in 45 seconds, there may be only 10-15 seconds of actual hard
work. In other words, the pace of his drills and of the entire practice
needs to be picked up.

One drill will never do it, no more than one set of 10 arm curls will get you in shape.

]]>Tue, 15 Nov 2016 12:35:07 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27663

“We did skating drills where kids collapsed on the ice, but no one said a word. We were all better afterwards."

I’m loathe to jump into what has become a bit of an open referendum on disciplining children.

Actually, I’ve used the wrong terminology. The discussion about what
he did isn’t at all about disciplining children; what he did was punish
them. The message seemed to be clear: If we lose badly or with a poor
effort or because our breakouts, which I’ve taught you a zillion times,
are crap, you will do pushups (or similar) until your muscles no longer
function. Or, as per the former player’s comment, I’ll skate the
bejeezus out of you for whatever reason I can come up with to teach you a
lesson.

It’s true none of us is privy to how his governing body, Lac St.
Louis, reached its decision. We don’t know if this was a pattern of
approach he’d used or merely a “one-off.” If the above quote is an
indication, it suggests a fellow who meted out exercise as punishment.
Then, too, it’s been noted in the Montreal press he’s been one of the
more successful coaches in the region, however one defines success. I
don’t know the fellow nor anything about him aside from this episode.

You’ll notice I haven’t used his name. While I’m prepared to rake him
up and down for his actions, he’s not been charged with a crime. He
deserves a modicum of privacy, especially as a volunteer hockey coach.
I’m not condoning his approach; I just don’t think using his name
furthers the point.

There’s an ocean of difference between disciplining a kid or a group
of kids and punishing them, let alone for a result or performance. Much
like the old class detentions, which were mostly useless, push-ups, or
any similar action, run contrary to the spirit of youth sport. Perhaps
he figured it’d be a motivational tool or that they’d learn from this
and work harder next time. Was the loss a personal embarrassment? Who
knows?

Was it just a mistake? Another coach in the organization kind of came
to the chap’s defence by saying everyone makes mistakes and this was
one. The action is a lot more than merely a mistake.

The message has to be clear. Coaches are there to lead, teach, and
help kids grow. This coach may have been doing some of that, but
successfully negated most of it with a style that just doesn’t belong in
youth sport.

]]>Tue, 08 Nov 2016 10:00:33 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27632

Is there such a thing as an intellectually brave minor hockey coach? If there is, how would we know we’ve found one?

Most coaches of elite players I’ve known didn’t stand pat with their
rosters. Given how much kids change from year to year in every
imaginable way, it only made sense that to improve a team sometimes
meant making changes. For instance, I knew a minor midget AAA coach who
wasn’t afraid to look at the kids coming to him from major bantam and
determine that a few couldn’t cut it at the next level. We could argue
all day whether or not he was right. Like all coaches though, this was
his call and he’d have to live with it.

That, to me, is a small example of someone who is intellectually
brave. Brave, however, is not synonymous with being correct. In fact,
with the exception of extremes, coaching is anything but an exact
science. So when a minor hockey coach takes a stand, there are inherent
risks. Most recognize what they are, though not all think them through.

If a coach cuts a board member’s child from a competitive team
because the child wasn’t, at this time, good enough, is that being
intellectually brave? Certainly the easier route would be to say the
child is “a bubble player” and made it by the skin of his/her teeth.
Does that assure the coach of support from the executive? Has the coach
merely buckled to conform and take the road more travelled? Tryouts and
sorting kids into levels is a path fraught with questions that test the
bravest of coaches.

But intellectually brave also refers to teaching methods and content.
This is where the path gets fuzzy and often obliterated. Most coaches
believe what they teach is acceptable even if they don’t know why.
Example: we have to teach breakouts to these atoms. Well, yes, that’s
sort of true, but how to do it knowing it may take months for them to
grasp the nuances of breakouts in atom hockey and deal with the
different kinds of resistance. Is this coach patient – alright,
intellectually brave – enough to break down the tactic to its simplest
elements then build on them over the season?

Is it being intellectually brave to attempt to use small area games
and related concepts to practice, tantamount to experimenting with the
team? What about running practice activities that are essentially based
in experiential learning? Is it important the kids be exposed to new
ways of learning for just this one year knowing full well little of it –
or none – may happen again?

Is it brave to just roll the lines and defence pairs and alternate goalies no matter the results?

These kinds of coaches are more the exception than the rule. That’s the kids’ loss.

]]>Tue, 01 Nov 2016 10:38:31 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27620

There are some web sites for hockey and coaching which are essential reading, aside from hockeynow.ca, naturally. One is getsportiq.com, created by Calgary coach Dean Holden.

He scours the internet for articles from publications for anything
related to coaching, physical literacy and related topics. They’re
written by a wide range of researchers, coaches, etc. It’s a treasure
trove of information. I urge anyone interested in professional
development about coaching to check it out.

A recent article was by John O’Sullivan, whose own site, changingthegameproject.com, and writings have had a significant influence on the direction of coaching and sport participation in the U.S.

The article is entitled “The Ostrich Effect: Why we ignore our coaching problem & how to fix it.” He maintains that more
education and training for coaches is the answer, not less, and cites
both USA Hockey and Hockey Canada as examples of sport governing bodies
which have mandatory coach training.

Except it’s not completely accurate. In Canada, depending on where
you live and at what level you coach, not all coaches need to attend
coach training programs. (Every coach in Canada, however, must complete
the online Respect in Sport program). This usually applies to assistant
coaches or so-called “helpers” in recreational leagues. At older and/or
certain competitive levels, head coaches are required to have minimum
training while assistants often need only a level below, if that. As a
generalization, if a typical team has one head coach and two assistants,
we’re basically training about a third of our coaches at many levels.

Moreover, the extent of training varies considerably. In some places,
it’s as little six hours or less. One argument is that, if forced to go
to more or longer training sessions, coaches won’t do it. As well, the
cost of the courses varies wildly, but they are rarely under $100. In a
few regions, provincial funding covers the cost, but this is the
exception, not the rule.

O’Sullivan says, “The biggest problem I see is that far too many
organizations suffer from the ostrich effect. They have their heads in
the sand. It’s easier to provide education based upon what they believe
their least motivated coach will tolerate. They run the same tired
pre-season meeting, or single, voluntary coaching clinic, hand out the
same old PDF, and wash their hands of it. They say if we ask too much,
no one will volunteer.

He maintains that making courses easier to access and cheaper will
actually keep coaches in the sport. He writes, “Coaches who have been
well trained and provided with the tools to enjoy coaching more come
back year after year, even after their kids move on. Over time you will
build a stable of well-trained enthusiastic coaches. You will elevate
your program, and improve the experience for kids.”

He is correct. If we don’t train coaches properly, we do them and their players a disservice. Shortcuts in education don’t work.

]]>Tue, 25 Oct 2016 10:28:21 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27580

We spend inordinate amounts of time teaching skills and tactics as
well as showing coaches how to do it. Of course, it’s all needed. But we
consistently miss an essential ingredient in teaching, which is how to
control the team.

This is no trifling matter. Ask a new classroom teacher about the
importance of keeping a room of kids effectively corralled. It’s vital
to learning. So, too, must it be in sport. Hockey, however, presents
problems few other activities face: a cold, damp, and slippery hostile
physical environment, boredom if not moving, and the presence of toys
called pucks which, though rubber, are a magnet. The kids want to play;
the coach wants to coach. How to make them meet?

When you watch effective coaches, you immediately notice some key
things. They’re exuberant and enthusiastic; their voices are clear;
they’re well organized; assistants aren’t goofing around at any time;
they’re teaching and giving feedback; they intervene frequently to make
corrections; they stand before the kids when talking, making sure they
can see them all. The ones who use the whistle a lot (which, frankly, I don’t like. See my earlier post Whistle While You Work) use it in a commanding fashion. You just KNOW these coaches are in charge. You can sense it.

Still, it’s far from an easy task nor is it a coaching skill everyone
has right away. I not-so-fondly remember my own early coaching days
doing a lot of yelling to get kids to listen. When I watched more
experienced people work, they seemed so composed all the time. Now maybe
they were like ducks in water: calm on the surface but paddling
furiously beneath it. I doubt that. They harboured a secret I wanted in
on, that is, to be able to control a hockey team without threats and
shouts.

It takes conscious work. There’s no such thing in minor hockey as
being on autopilot with kids in practice. You need to be ever observant
and alert and be willing not to let little things slide by, like an
assistant who wants to shoot at an empty net or a few kids who play
keep-away for some time after they’re supposed to come to the group. A
coach who addresses these things straight away will be in control.

We shouldn’t confuse having control of a team in practice with being
an autocrat or borderline dictator. The dictatorial approach suggests
the coach is ordering the kids, commanding them from “on high.” A coach
who controls his team does so with benevolence but also with the
understanding that good control will lead to a better and more fun
learning environment.

]]>Tue, 18 Oct 2016 13:24:24 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27563

Sometimes I just don’t know what to say. This will come as a shock to
friends in the hockey community who’d swear I’m never at a loss for
words.

In a coaching clinic discussion about effective use of practice
ice – half or shared, etc. – there was an examination of the space most
suitable to different age groups. A number of coaches said their tyke,
novice, and atom (ages 7 to 10) teams often had full-ice practices. They
recognized though that nearly everything they did could be done in a
smaller space.

This segued into a chat about adapting drills and using small
area games, and from that came the inevitable look at minor hockey’s
structure. I posed this question: “What children’s activity does not
make adaptations to size or developmental age?” Instantly, a few coaches
said hockey. And then we went through the list of things that are the
same for seven year olds as 17-year-olds in midget: rules, puck, nets,
penalty lengths, bench. The only change is in game length.

If we agree that adapting practices to their size and development
is logical and proper, I suggested, why not games and seasons? How come
minor hockey is pretty much the only children’s activity stuck in a
time warp? Should we change it?

One coach raised his hand and said no. Why, I asked. It’s fine
right now, he said. What’s your rationale, I asked. Nothing wrong with
the way it is. Always been this way, he said. True, I agreed. But, I
said, if you already agree that smaller space is suitable for practice,
isn’t it logical it should be for games, too? He shook his head. No.
That’s not the way the game is played.

Which is when I paused at the front of the room, perfectly
tongue-tied by his comments. I didn’t understand. I peered at some faces
and it appeared they didn’t either.

For the previous 20 minutes, we’d discussed the advantages of
small area games, how we could take fancy drills from older levels and
mold them into usable formats for kids, etc. Somewhere in the leap from
practice to game that day, the fellow’s impenetrable wall of tradition
got built.

I moved on to the next topic, but for the rest of the day, his
attitude nagged at me. Five or ten years ago, he wouldn’t have been
alone. There’d have been a lot of shaking heads. This time, the shaking
heads weren’t in his favour. The numbers of coaches who really believe
the game should be identical for little kids as teenagers has dwindled
dramatically.

Should I have been surprised? Perhaps not. Or maybe it wasn’t
surprise at all. Maybe it’s continual disbelief. In the face of
everything we know about growth and development and given how every
other kid’s activity has made major adjustments, there are still hockey
people who don’t understand.

Which is what I don’t yet understand.

]]>Wed, 19 Oct 2016 11:20:41 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27534

The coach is “Old School.”

I hear that a lot, from coaches, parents, at clinics… It’s a
catchphrase to mean, “The coach uses timeworn drills and a
my-way-or-the-highway mentality, and isn’t too interested in trying
something new.” It’s the minor hockey equivalent of the one room
schoolhouse.

Then again, I know a couple of coaches who could be accused of being
old school and they’re quite effective. In the end, their kids are
taught, learn, improve, and have had some success. In short, affixing a
moniker to a coaching approach isn’t always accurate.

However, what is worth examining is the overuse of drills that didn’t
cut it before and still don’t. Much of that comes from ignorance, and I
mean it in the most literal way. A coach will resort to what was done
ages ago or what is most expedient or even easiest. The drill was boring
and ineffective 30 years ago. Why? Because it doesn’t (and didn’t)
address any of the key ingredients a good drill should: movement,
variety, challenge, minimal waiting, highlights particular skills or
tactics, done in an appropriate space and at a speed where learning can
occur, to name a few.

The old school approach is to use the same warmups every practice; to
use the same 1-on-1 or breakout drills every practice; to think that
nine-year-olds should be doing complex breakout to neutral zone regroup
to 3-on-2s; to spend 15 minutes on ice showing players where to go on
face-offs; to loudly smack your stick on the ice and exhort the players
to go faster, no matter the drill; to tell parents that one of the
objectives is to finish in the league’s top three and win at least one
tournament; to go to a couple of junior practices and steal a few
drills, figuring your own players could do them too; to assume the “new
stuff” and approaches to instruction and coaching are interesting but
not needed.

We shouldn’t confuse old school coaching approaches with traditional
values-based leadership. An ethical approach to leading kids of any age
is probably the same now as it was decades ago. Now though, with
programs such as the Coaching Association’s excellent Make Ethical
Decisions, coaches learn there’s a process to making a decision, not
just impulse. This is true even when the coach knows that, in the end,
the result may be similar.

At older competitive levels, parents seem to be more willing to
accept old school coaches. It doesn’t exist in the classroom much
anymore. Why accept it in sport? I suspect we have an idea why, and it’s
not positive.

]]>Tue, 04 Oct 2016 11:33:40 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27489

Should coaches participate in drills with kids? No.

Once upon a time, in my early days as a house league coach, I used to
practice my formidable stickhandling skills by keeping the puck away
from my players. It was only when a few ganged up on me that I lost the
puck. That I could dangle through a bunch of 11-year-olds did wonders
for my self-esteem. I even managed it with bantams.

We used to hold parent-player games where parents, including ones who
could barely skate, and coaches played a “fun” game against the kids.
We got pretty competitive and sometimes bodies flew. This ended when I
was informed just how dangerous and silly it all was.

Today, that game would not happen. Aside from sensible reasons,
insurance and litigation get in the way. Yet I still see coaches
actively playing with or against kids in drills. Make no mistake: these
are not demonstrations. There’s a world of difference between showing
kids how to, say, receive a body check and being in a drill with them as
either the checker or the “checkee.”

Even demonstrations need to be done at a speed and proximity where
every child can catch the required movements and instruction. That’s
just good teaching. If you watch a baseball pitcher deliver a pitch on
TV, you notice little until the video is slowed to a crawl. It’s only
then that you see his grip and the way the ball moves. Demos need to be
sloooowww and clear.

When a coach participates with a player, he/she is no longer
coaching. You can’t play and at the same moment observe, teach, and give
feedback. More importantly, there is a massive risk of injury to both.
Try to imagine your defence in a lawsuit by the family of a child
accidentally hurt in a drill when you fell on him. Was it necessary for
the child to learn the skill by being against an adult with greater
weight and strength? Of course not.

Then, too, is the issue of what would compel an adult to want to
participate in a drill of any sort. Show off his skills? Establish a
power base, so to speak? Perhaps even a touch of subjugation of the
kids?

I’ve heard coaches defend this by stating the kids enjoy it. Do they
really? Do they also enjoy parents on scooters in the neighbourhood
chasing them? Do they want Mom or Dad playing with their toys while the
child is with a friend?

Hockey is supposed to be a fun participatory activity for the kids.
Let your players do the drills with each other. If the coaches need to
play, join a league.

]]>Tue, 27 Sep 2016 12:42:50 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27415

Everyone knows what a warm-up is. It’s that wee time frame before
engaging in an athletic endeavour when the body and the mind need to be
tuned up for action. How the warmup is done is another matter since
there are innumerable options. But it should be pretty obvious even a
half decent warm-up includes lots of movement, gross motor activities,
puck play, and shooting.

Then there’s the cold-up. Assuming
everyone does know what a proper warm-up entails, how is it that the
following is done for 8 minutes at the outset of a 50 minute practice?

The
moment the kids step on the ice, the coach begins this drill, which
he’s obviously shown them in the room. So good for him for planning and
immediately starting.

But this happens... Players are in four
groups, one group per corner. Alternating ends, one kid from each end
skates somewhere, gets a pass from a corner, skates over half the length
of the rink and drifts in for a shot. At the most, there are two
players skating at a time. About two-thirds of the shots are on net and
there are approximately 20 seconds between shots for the goalies.

Naturally,
the kids coast through the drill. Why? Because they can. There’s no
mental or physical challenge. Passes are long and sloppy. Reception
positioning is poor. Neither coach corrects them on this. It’s a warm-up
after all. No need to do error correction in a warm-up, is there?

What
would have been better than this cold-up? First, get them skating as
soon as they get out there, preferably not in one direction nor just
going forwards. It needn’t be for long. Even a minute of agility skating
is sufficient to get the blood flowing. In one minute, bantams can do
almost three laps or lengths.

Next, it’s fine to keep
the same four cornered groups but do the passing and shooting in their
halves. You’d have twice the kids skating and in a more realistic space.
It’s still not enough though. Add an agility route before or after a
pass to allow time for more players to be involved. Take shots from a
designated area, like the circles (wristers only) and set it up so
there’s a shot every 5-8 seconds. Insist on short accurate passes and
proper body adjustment for reception.

As for time, a standard
approach is 10% of the practice time. So five minutes of 50 is
sufficient with young players. Besides, in a well-designed practice,
even the first formal drill can act as a different type of warm-up. For
instance, after a couple of minutes of general agility skating and
puckhandling followed by a shot, a small space puck protection exercises
serves as an additional warm-up to checking or 1 on 1s, etc.

If you want the kids to perform at a high pace or decent intensity, a cold-up doesn’t cut it.

]]>Tue, 20 Sep 2016 15:17:09 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27403

The time-worn rule for new classroom teachers, one never really
expressed in training programs, is that you’re better off having a firm
hand at the beginning than trying to tighten up later. It’s a similar
approach for coaches, new or otherwise.

In hockey though,
coaches see their players infrequently. It’s more challenging to create a
consistent pattern of discipline with kids you only see for a short
time. Are they more willing to listen because they’re doing something
they love? Or is the opposite true, that being in sport can be a licence
to unleash the inner demons they’ve corralled all day long?

Coaches
aren’t trained in the ways of creating a disciplined environment. It
isn’t taught in certification programs and hardly ever presented in
seminars or workshops. It would seem everyone assumes an adult should
know how and when to discipline a bunch of youngsters. Why we think this
is a good question. In conversations with coaches, they always mention
how tricky a balancing act it can be, especially these days where
parents are omnipresent, literally and virtually.

Case in
point: A bantam coach was taken to task by a parent, one who is
especially loud and glib and sat on the local board. The issue had to do
with the kid, a goalie, not at all doing what the coach asked his
goalies to do before games to warm up. The coach approached the boy in
the dressing room before one game, leaned over, and told the kid he
wasn’t helping his team by just sitting there. The parent objected
vehemently to the coach at a parents meeting that he had no business
telling off his boy. Other parents told this one he was wrong and the
coach was perfectly within his rights to verbally discipline the boy to
do as instructed. The parent backed off, but remained ticked.

You
also don’t see many coaches who understand the importance of graduated
disciplinary measures or using ones reflective of the problem rather
than archaic approaches. Having kids do pushups as punishment for being
last out of the room for practice isn’t productive. And therein lies the
operative word: punishment.

The power a coach yields is
substantial, especially on competitive teams. Kids may indeed “toe the
line” when disciplined or punished. But that doesn’t mean it’s the best
approach. If your youngster’s teacher threw kids out of class every time
they did something wrong, it wouldn’t be a very positive classroom
environment nor conducive to learning.

Before a coach is
cornered by a thorny issue needing discipline, he has to ask himself
what is a reasoned way to deal with it? You can only do so much. You’re
their coach, not their parent.

]]>Tue, 13 Sep 2016 11:23:09 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27374

A former NHL player, a team captain no less, once coached his son in
competitive hockey. It wasn’t unusual for the coach to berate officials
or stand in the bench doorway and wave them over. You can imagine how
intimidating it must have been for teenage referees to deal with Mr.
Ex-NHL Guy.

Then there’s the story told by a friend who coached a game against a
pair of former NHL lads, both well known. They did some name-calling to
my friend from their bench and generally behaved like louts.

Another fellow who played very briefly in the league was an assistant
on his kid’s house league team. He did more shouting than was useful
and was overly pushy. The head coach never said a word. After all, who
was he to tell off a chap who was a pro?

Do former NHLers get away with more when coaching minor hockey? Is
more expected of them? Are they truly “giving back to the game” when
they coach only their own children then leave coaching once the kids are
out of it?

Let’s first put this in perspective. No one but someone who has
played in that league can possibly know what it took to get there, let
alone come close and have “a cup of coffee” in pro hockey. How that
prepares them to deal with minor hockey situations, players, and parents
is quite another matter.

There is a vast number of portable skills an ex-NHL player brings to
the minor hockey experience. But nearly all are at such an elite level
that there exists a chasm between what the former pro went through
himself and how to make any of it applicable to today’s minor hockey
players, even if they, too, are elite.

What makes the scenario more difficult is that their playing résumé
automatically flings open coaching doors everyone else needs to push
through. It’s hard to say if more is expected but certainly, from what
I’ve seen, they’re given a great deal more leeway in how they handle
teams.

Given these two elements alone, ex-NHL players owe it to the game to
live up to their billing, justified or not, and provide a “professional”
level of coaching and comportment. What they say and do matter. Their
influence can be immense and I wonder if they realize it. They possess
what I call “The Wow Factor.” However, even that can wear off quickly if
their approach isn’t what it should be. Why? Because more is expected.
If they’re going to “give back to the game,” it ought to always be the
right way.

]]>Tue, 06 Sep 2016 11:32:17 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27344

If anyone thinks releasing young players during a tryout is tough,
they ought to spend a bit of time in junior. There, we coaches dash
their hopes upon the rocks of the future, or so they would have us
believe. Since decisions on who makes a team are entirely subjective and
dependent on many factors, it’s actually a more complex process with
older players and having more immediate repercussions.

There
was Dave, a beautiful skater and puckhandler, good team guy, and fine
penalty killer. Rules dictated we could keep only four overage players,
but we had seven. Three needed to be released and there was no foregone
conclusion it would be any particular player. We had a stacked group
the year before and a more promising one coming up. All seven were
veterans.

Releasing Dave was so agonizing that my coaching
colleague, who’d had him since midget, actually teared up when Dave left
the rink. I don’t think Dave heard a word we said about why we were
releasing him. I wouldn’t have either. He left in a huff and neither he
nor his father spoke to us again. Were we right? Well, we won the title
that season and Dave, sent to another team to keep him playing, quit
before the season was out.

On another team, we had too many
defencemen. Plus, to succeed in the league, you really had to go with
experience on the back end unless a young guy was a standout. In this
league, such standouts normally played a level up. Peter was a local 16-year-old who, we were informed, wasn’t likely to finish the season as
he’d be called up. He wasn’t bad, but didn’t offer the team anything we
didn’t already have. Being local was a bonus, but only for a couple of
ticket sales per home game.

We opted to trade him, which was
effectively a release. His Dad lost his shorts over it. We were
shortsighted; we were incompetent; we were... you name it. Peter played
the next four years in the league with three different teams and never
did get that call up.

My favourite story doesn’t involve me
nor a junior player. Mike is a stocky young teen who’d tried out for AAA
then AA every year since he was about nine. Never made it. So he played
tier 3 competitive hockey – and tore up the league every year with his
sniping. He could score anyhow from anywhere. A bull with the puck, he
wasn’t the quickest to turn nor the smartest tactically. But score
goals? Oh yes. He is now one year away from trying junior. I’m anxious
to see if anyone will take a flyer on this boy.

I’d have loved
to be in the room when one of those coaches released him. “Sorry, Mike.
You scored eight goals in three exhibition games (true!) but…”

Deep cut indeed.

]]>Fri, 02 Sep 2016 10:34:15 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27313

Are we going about skill development the right way by hiring specialists to teach skills to our kids?

As I wrote last week, associations are hiring groups to run extra
skills instructions sessions. It ain’t cheap! When people complain about
the high cost of the game, this has to be a factor. Skating
instructors, for instance, have been known to charge over $120 per hour.
That adds significantly to team fees over a few months. So the big
question is, is it worth it?

A major problem we see in our minor hockey system is the weakness in
skills instruction among our coaches. The certification program can’t
possibly do it in its current format. As a long time
instructor/facilitator in the coaching program, I’m barely able to
scrape the surface of how to teach these skills given the time
constraints of a clinic.

One way Hockey Canada feels it’s addressing this is to add to the
program through specialty skills instruction training, something that’s
been talked about for ages and is only now getting started. A coach – or
anyone really – attends a three- or four-hour session on, say, skating
and earns a Level 1 certification. There will be three levels. It’s not
mandatory for coaches. How many will want to attend is a good question.
Ideally, every coach should.

What is more likely to happen is that the private instructors will
take this training to certify themselves as Hockey Canada qualified
instructors. Will they lower their rates? Will they still offer quality
teaching that supplements what coaches do? Well, that’s the hope.

We know coaches are under a lot of pressure to teach technical skills
with precious little time and expertise to do it. Private instructors
can fill that void. It comes at a price, both financially and also in
time. It requires ice time beyond the regular team practices.

A major issue seems to be that there’s a clear disconnect between
what the hired instructors teach and the follow-up by coaches who are
often urged to attend the sessions. If coaches don’t know what’s being
taught, how can they effectively build on this technical foundation in
practice? One chap who heads a private group teaching technical skills
once told me coaches mostly don’t attend, seeing the evening as a night
off from hockey.

Associations hire these groups, putting a lot of stock in their
playing backgrounds. Heck, if they played minor pro, they must know how
to teach puckhandling, right? But what’s their teaching like? Who sets
the curriculum for what they teach and when? Indeed, augmenting regular
practice content with this specialized instruction should provide kids
with the proper tools.

Is it?

]]>Tue, 23 Aug 2016 11:40:44 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27305

Here’s the newest rage among hockey associations: skill development people.

Do you coach in an area where the organization has hired someone or a
group to conduct additional skills sessions for players? If so, this
could be a great addition to your season curriculum. It could also be a
bit prickly.

I’ll set aside for now the looming accreditation from Hockey Canada
for skills teaching. It’s only in its infancy and may be a few years
before we can truly determine its value. In the meantime, let’s examine
what is becoming pervasive. Associations, with the best of intentions,
want to improve their players’ skills. Probably realizing that many of
their coaches haven’t got the experience, expertise or time to do a lot
of it, they hire people to run evening or weekend skills sessions with
kids. These are meant to augment what coaches do with their teams. The
cost is borne by the players through increased fees.

Who are the instructors? It can be quite a wide range of backgrounds.
If you look at the websites for these private groups, you’ll see a
great deal of played here, drafted there, cup of coffee in this pro
league, a bit of coaching somewhere, and sometimes a smattering of
teaching experience. The proof though is what these people bring on the
ice. While it’s most certainly true that playing backgrounds don’t in
any way guarantee quality instruction, you generally don’t know till
your kids have been in it.

This is such a stark contrast to what top European hockey countries
do like Finland, Sweden, etc. There, the people who teach skills may
have playing backgrounds but are highly trained specialists in physical
education or related disciplines with extensive coach training by the
governing bodies. Plus, their club system ensures the instruction is
consistent from the youngest ages to junior.

The good news is that if your association has a private group running
these sessions, your coaching just got a little bit easier. These folks
are meant to provide the foundational skills upon which you build
multi-task instruction. They’ll teach the edge control and complex
skating manoeuvres while you’re to apply them to drills, individual
tactics and so on. It should be a winning approach for you and your
players. This is especially true if demonstrating or breaking down
certain skills are out of your comfort zone. The hired guns usually have
terrific skills themselves; their demos are darn good.

But what about their actual teaching skills? The ability to break
something down into manageable parts kids can follow? The nature of the
feedback? The number of reps a child gets to try the skill?

In next week’s blog, I’ll look at how these skill sessions help the
coach and what the coach should do to follow up. As well, I’ll take a
peek at the prickly part, when things don’t quite click.

]]>Tue, 16 Aug 2016 09:26:59 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27282

Good demonstrations are one of the key things I watch for in practice
assessments. They’re one of those line items which illustrate if a
coach truly understands the importance of good teaching, not just good
drill diagramming.

In last week’s blog
about everything being hard before it’s easy, I referred to a power
play I once tried to show a junior team. What I didn’t mention is that
there was no video of it. I’d watched an NCAA Div I team use it years
ago and had only seen bits of its components used at the pros. Never
have I have seen this same power play set up.

Without the visual, a vital component in attaining physical skills or
tactics, the task of teaching the set up was much harder. From the
players’ standpoint, they had no standard to emulate aside from my own
diagrams and movement on the ice. It’s likely I underestimated its
importance as I figured elite junior athletes were used to being walked
through or shown complex tactics. While that’s true, even elite players
would have found good demonstrations helpful. Plus it might have been an
easier “sell” for the me. I’m a big proponent of mental training and
here was a case where visualization and mental practice of something
they’d seen would have made world of difference.

The same is much more important with minor teams where kids don’t
have the visual experience of having seen variations on a skill theme
dozens of times over the years. What you’re showing them is likely
entirely new or nearly so.

A tight turn while puckhandling is a good example. There are a many
terrific videos you can show the kids. But the best teacher is, and has
always been, the teacher, not the machine.

If you demonstrate that skill combo slowly, using key words and
phrases to describe what they need to learn while watching, it’ll go a
long way. Instead, what I too frequently see is a nearly full speed demo
given by some who’s really good at it. Sometimes the narration is by
the person doing the demo; other times by a coach on the side. Either
way, the demo must be at a speed the kids’ eyes can follow.

For example, when you watch a baseball game on TV, a batter going
after a pitch at full speed live is hard to track. It’s only when the
video is slowed to a crawl that you can see how important various
components of the hitting skill are as the commentator breaks it down.

When you’re coaching, think of yourself as that TV commentator using a slow mo replay. That’s what the kids need to see.

]]>Fri, 05 Aug 2016 10:10:53 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27277

Everything is difficult before it is easy.

Nothing like a pithy aphorism to make you lean back and take note. Or
yawn. The statement, like so many such proverbs, is attributed to more
than one person: A 17th century clergyman, Thomas Fuller, and the 18th
century German writer Von Goethe. Either way, it’s entirely appropriate
to coaching because it makes more sense than coaches are sometimes
willing to accept.

In one of my junior coaching experiences in the last few years, we
tried to develop a power play. As the assistant coach, though also the
guy in charge of all teaching and tactics, it was quite a challenge. I’d
chosen to show them a rather unique approach I’d unabashedly ripped off
from a successful NCAA program of some years ago. It had worked with
another junior team I’d had because it was really a pretty easy set up.

The problem with this group was that the personnel wasn’t as skilled
and more prone to frustration. Some of the so-called key players figured
they’d get it straight off and execute in a game with near perfection. I
could have cited stats to illustrate that even if a team manages 20% on
a PP, that’s considered good. You’d score on 1 in 5 chances (which is
worse than a decent batting average in baseball) and perhaps get a
couple of good attempts on net otherwise. So then, to expect any PP to
work right off the bat, let alone a new one, meant not understanding
that it’s hard first and easy much later on.

Let’s set aside the difficulty they had in gaining the offensive zone
to establish the set up. That was a study in frustration. My approach
was to get them to buy in to the setup, see its potential, and then
believe in the importance of zone entry to get to the setup.

The more stubborn players, vets who saw themselves as far better than
either they or their records had shown, did not want to work at it.
Yes, I said, at first it’ll be awkward but once you get the idea, it’ll
become easier. Hard then easy. Just like skating or puckhandling or
shooting on the move.

No one likes doing things that are difficult. Why? Because they’re
difficult. Even when you do things that are easy, you forget that at one
time, it was difficult. For this team, whose PP in previous season had
been abysmal, falling back on what they’d done was indeed easier.
Unsuccessful, but easier. The PP I was showing them would in fact become
easier to succeed had after just a few practices.

It didn’t work. I was prepared to be patient with it; the players and
the head coach/GM/owner weren’t. They overruled me and resorted to the
old PP. The result? An 8% success rate, the league’s worst, and more
shorthanded goals against than any other team.

But it was easier.

]]>Tue, 02 Aug 2016 09:44:26 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27263

What’s in a rep?

The summer hockey school had 22 kids on the ice with seven
instructors, one of whom was the head fellow. That’s an unusually good
player:teacher ratio. Of course, parents pay for it, in this case $600
for 15 hours of instruction over the week.

What was interesting about the approach taken at the school had to do
with the number of reps kids were allowed to do an exercise. I wrote
about this in a general sense in my June 14 blog The Value of Repetition.
It was meant more for team situations than a specialized hockey school
environment. In a regular season practice, where the coach might devote
15 minutes to a skill, often imbedding the skill in a multitask
activity, a summer program can devote much more.

On this day, the school was teaching various skating balance
manoeuvres without and then with pucks. By the end of the hour, it was a
bonafide puckhandling session. The kids were in fours with their own
age group and lined up at one end. On each whistle, a wave would head to
the far end doing the prescribed exercise. Generally, each child got
four or five chances along that length of ice to practice the skills,
some of which were tricky.

The exercises and instruction were very good. The feedback from
nearly all the instructors was also strong. The one issue I had with it
was that for almost the entire session, the only reps the kids got to do
an exercise was over a single length. A few got it right away; most
were partly there. A second or third length was warranted to cement the
skill, or, as we know to call it, build that muscle memory.

What happened instead was that after each length of tries, the head
instructor would add to or complicate the exercise a little more, well
before most of the kids had a handle on the previous exercises. As well,
only once did the head instructor stop the group in mid-try to re-teach
something that wasn’t going well. The rest of the time the kids did
their thing.

Given the number of instructors present, even one more length of
tries might have been beneficial to the ones who struggled, about a
third by my estimation.

Overall, it was a very good ice session, better than most I’ve seen
in recent years. But kids need to repeat new or challenging skills. The
session would have been much more effective as a learning environment if
all the kids had had a couple more lengths to practice skills which
were new to them.

]]>Tue, 26 Jul 2016 08:57:01 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27241

Dear Coach-to-be,

I understand you’re taking on a team of your own next year.
Congratulations on a terrific decision. Now they become a lot more
complicated – the decisions, I mean. The kids are another story
altogether.

We all dream of that final moment, when the buzzer sounds and your
squad has won it all. Sorry to disappoint, but odds are it won’t happen.
It may though and if you coach long enough and well enough, you’re
likely to have a few of those moments. But you’re not coaching for that
reason, are you? You’re coaching to help the kids and develop them. Yes,
this includes you, AAA coach person.

Where to start, right? How about we look first at what you’re going to teach and how much of it?

For years I’ve seen coaches struggle with this. I have, too. One of
the best groups I ever coached was a pee wee team that won everything,
including a de facto provincial title in Montreal. It was my first
competitive team and I vividly recall having no clue what to teach or
when. So I pretty much winged it the whole year. My luck, I had great
assistants, supportive parents and wonderful kids. If only they knew how
much was done on the fly…

These days, with all the resources available, I’d contend it’s more
complicated to decide. You still need to begin with an overall vision of
how much of your practice time should be devoted to which items. Hockey
Canada provides a general idea by assigning a percentage to each of
individual skills, individual tactics, team (or small group) tactics,
and so on. If the suggestion then is that 40% of your time should be
spent on skills, for example, there’s your starting point.

That’s 40% over the entire season. If you have 40 practices of 50
minutes each, that’s 2000 minutes. You’d be spending 800 minutes of it
on skills. And, those 800 minutes could be spread over just the first
half of the season, or weighted more in the first half than the second
half, or any other way you devise. See what I mean about decisions?

The best advice would be that if you haven’t coached this level or
age group before, you should ask those who have. Keep in mind, too, that
what was appropriate for a group one year may not always be. You may
have a group that’s particularly skilled and the 40% could be lowered.
However, even skilled players need to be challenged by having those very
same skills approached from a multi-tasking point of view. For
instance, can they handle the puck and perform a give and go while under
backcheck pressure?

Mid summer and your mind is starting to wander over to what you’ll do
with them this season. I’ve suggested a starting point. You’ll be
surprised at how far it will take you.

]]>Tue, 19 Jul 2016 09:15:11 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27210

Long before the 1999 Molson Open Ice Summit, mentoring coaches
existed. That ’99 event, coincidentally the year Wayne Gretzky retired
(99, get it?), produced 11 recommendations to improve minor hockey.
First on the list was to be the hiring of paid mentors or master
coaches, one per 20 teams, to assist coaches in developing their kids
and creativity.

But in 1978, in a Montreal suburb, I was hired to do just that. Still
in my 20s, I was ill-equipped and not nearly masterful enough to do the
job. Someone thought I could. The cynical me wonders if it was to get
me out of the community where I was coaching and had just won a de facto
provincial championship.

The community recreation department had hired a fellow to oversee its
ice sports programs: hockey, ringette, figure skating, and speed
skating, which was in its infancy. Hockey, of course, was the big deal.
He, in turn, would bring in people to work in those programs. He got my
name, we met, and the $10 per hour job was mine. I was to mentor four AA
(their highest level) teams at pee wee, bantam, midget, and juvenile.
I’d never met the coaches. Two were sort of enthusiastic about the extra
help. One wasn’t sure he needed it. The fourth fellow, the pee wee
coach, wanted nothing to do with me.

I spent the season working with three teams and became fast friends
with the juvenile coach who had the least experience of the four head
coaches and welcomed the input.

It was an interesting learning experience from every angle. I’d never
done anything like this before. While I’d had success coaching myself
and teaching in hockey schools, advising or guiding others was new. The
pee wee coach turned out to be somewhat of an arrogant jerk anyway and
his team was riddled with issues all season. Andre, the fellow who hired
me, told me to stay clear and let him drown since he’d never shown
interest in getting help. I was uncomfortable with that approach since
it left the kids high and dry, but I did it anyway.

There was no formal programming nor job description. Just help them, I
was told. Rather intimidated, I asked what they need help with. Often
they didn’t know themselves until it was too late. For instance,
everyone knew tactics; no one had a handle on how to effectively teach
them.

As with every mentoring role I’ve taken on over the years, there were
a lot more hours spent with coaches than what was “billable.” Moreover,
the learning experience for me probably dwarfed anything the coaches
got out of it. I was able to steal from three teams.

Like everything in hockey, connections count. The midget coach went
to coach in Europe the following season. When he returned, he told me
about a club looking for someone. So off I went.

]]>Tue, 12 Jul 2016 13:31:46 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27199

The standard retort from those who run half marathons is, “Remove the
‘just’.” As in, “it’s just a half marathon.” Running 21.1 km ain’t a
walk in the park, folks, and until you’ve done one, it’s best to say
nothing and just imagine.

So it goes, too, with the typical minor hockey coach. I’ve heard
coaches mutter, “I’m just an ordinary [fill in the team and level] coach
trying to help the kids.” Hearing this annoys me. It wouldn’t matter
whether the coach is dealing with any sport or other volunteer activity
with kids. My reaction remains the same: giving of yourself to help the
kids, knowing you’re providing a valuable service to the community, is
golden. I can’t know of course if someone is just being modest or
otherwise, not that it matters anyway.

What I’ve discovered over the years is that minor hockey coaches want
to improve. Perhaps it’s a natural human instinct to want to get better
at whatever we do. I’ll leave that to the sociologists. Certainly kids
do. One former coaching colleague used to remark how kids just need good
coaches to show them how to do it. They don’t even need great coaches,
just good, fair and open-minded ones.

Who then is the “ordinary” coach? Why make a fuss at all?

The typical minor hockey coach is just about anyone who isn’t
coaching an elite level team. Even more special are the ones whose own
children have long since left minor hockey and continue to coach for the
good of the game. I have a particular soft spot for them because they
sure don’t need to coach; there’s no vested interest anymore. It’s
something I’ve not seen a lot at the elite levels where ex- elite
players coach their own kids then leave the game once the kids are gone.
We need to convince them to stick around; that their own experiences
can touch many more youngsters; that becoming “just” an ordinary coach
of, say, house league kids is giving more to the game than they can
imagine.

When we talk about dealing with kids, all of whom except perhaps one
aren’t family, it seems inadequate to say someone is an ordinary coach.
The responsibility is too great and the potential impact too broad.

As to why we should make a fuss over it, well, no, we don’t need to
at all. I happen to believe though that not enough credit goes to the
non-elite coaches, which is about 90% of them. We make a fuss over
coaches whose players get drafted or chosen for some elite league, as if
they alone were responsible. If it takes a village to raise a child,
it’s even truer that a great many people, including their earliest
coaches, prepare a hockey player.

]]>Tue, 05 Jul 2016 08:45:32 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27183

I went to a coaches conference and one of the bits of swag they gave
everyone was a ball cap. I have lots of caps and there was nothing
particularly unique about this one. Except there was a sticker on the
brim which read “One size fits all.”

I figured that was pretty obvious since all of mine are made that
way, but then I wondered if the sticker was an accidental microcosm of
our game. Consider how much of the one size fits all approach we’re
faced with.

Same rules, rink, puck and nets in novice to midget

Drill books that make no allowances for age or ability – but great drills!

Practices that look so much like what was done three years ago and
will be done five years from now, yet the kids are vastly changed.

Even our coaching education programs aren’t quite there. High
performance seminars and assignments are the same whether you’re
coaching 13-year-olds in AAA or CIS adults. Similarly with the other
levels.

Let’s look at our school system as an example. While teacher training
is divided into primary, junior, intermediate and senior grades, the
vast majority of teachers tend to stick within an age range. You don’t
see kindergarten teachers working with fifth graders. Nor do senior high
teachers do much in grade 7-8, if at all. Teachers tend to specialize
with an age group because they’ve learned its needs and understand the
students.

Minor hockey has done a poor job of that. Since we have a volunteer
based system where coaches tend to be parents for the beginning years,
we get coaches who do understand their own children but sometimes have
trouble adapting beyond them. You’re good with your eight-year-old and
his buddies. Once they get to pee wee though, it’s another issue. Does
the coach have a true handle on the new age group’s idiosyncrasies?

Whose fault is this? What training have we foregone? I suppose we all
share in the blame for not being more proactive about teaching our
coaches more about each age’s needs. After all, our minor coaches, even
many of the elite and junior ones, aren’t professional educators who’ve
spent years honing their skills with an age group.

Sometimes I think our coaches take developmental age changes for
granted. In coaching clinics, we spend insufficient time on the topic.
We just assume the typical coach will make the transition seamlessly.

One size fits all may be fine for ball caps. It doesn’t work for much else.

]]>Tue, 28 Jun 2016 09:37:25 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27164

Are any two hockey plays identical?

Don’t
use the pros as your guide. Their skill level, experience, knowledge
and ability to assimilate information dwarfs those of mortal beings who
tinker at the game.

At the elite junior or midget levels,
there are semblances of similar plays, particularly with specialty
teams. By that age, players have usually been well coached and have
experienced enough to understand how to run a play. However, their
youth, exuberance, and impatience sometimes do them in, especially when
the opposition does something different or with pressure. Problem
solving in a fast-paced sport does not come easily to adolescents.

Which
leaves everyone else in the game. If junior kids have difficulty
running similar, let alone identical plays, we can’t expect them to
happen with younger, less skilled players. Yet I often see coaches
running drills where tactical situations are practiced with few, if any,
contingencies.

For instance, when was the last time you saw a
minor team execute a forecheck pattern the same way, shift in shift
out, for an entire period? It sure doesn’t happen often.

I suggest an experiment to illustrate just how much a play changes even when the same circumstances are created.

Set
up a 2 on 1 drill from the far blueline while you and your players
stand in the two offensive zone corners to observe the attack coming at
you. Use the same two forwards and lone defender and have them start the
same way from the same place on each repeat.

You’ll notice
that even though the same kid may start with the puck, his choices of
what to with it and when will vary. Even if you order him to start the
identical way as before, even if you tell his partner to follow the same
route, even if you order the defender to do the same thing, there will
be slight variations in speed and angle. What’s more, having now done
this same drill a couple of times, all three players will be looking to
make some kind of nuanced change in order to succeed. And of course the
goalie will adjust accordingly so that he, too, can succeed.

All
of that is if your players will actually do exactly as asked since the
will to succeed at a drill (get a goal or shot, stop the play, stop the
puck) is likely to trump your orders. Just don’t take it personally. The
game is too fluid to have shackles placed on the thinking processes.

So if no two plays are identical, what then must be your approach to practicing tactics?

]]>Tue, 21 Jun 2016 14:13:14 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27135

John Wooden’s accomplishments as an NCAA basketball coach were
remarkable. Even more astounding is that his legacy of coaching and
inspiration has carried on after his death in 2010 at the age of 99.

Perhaps his most quoted statement had to do with his laws of learning. He said, “The
four laws of learning are explanation, demonstration, imitation and
repetition. The goal is to create a correct habit that can be produced
instinctively under great pressure. To make sure this goal was achieved,
I create eight laws of learning — namely explanation, demonstration,
imitation, repetition, repetition, repetition, repetition, and
repetition.”

Many a coach in many a sport has implemented this approach. For
hockey coaches, however, the repetition part is a little more complex.
It’s the nature of our sport. Using an unnatural body motion - skating -
on thin blades and an awkwardly long implement to control and propel a
chunk of rubber, hockey players are forced to multitask like no other
sport. Sometimes we don’t realize just how difficult it is.

How to tell? Go to a public skating session and observe adults who
are clearly new to skating try to do anything on their skates, like turn
or go backwards. A fundamental problem is how a new skater, child or
adult, can control the fluidity of motion on skates.

To create habits as Wooden describes them requires hockey coaches get
kids to repeat the skills in a far more uncomfortable environment than a
basketball court. Baby, it’s cold and damp out there! But here’s the
problem: there’s a huge difference between drill repetition and skill
repetition. Repeating a drill over many practices, as coaches tend to
do, may very well ensure players learn the drill and do it right, and
eventually faster and more skilfully. It’s also boring and not very
challenging.

Skill repetition is what we’re aiming for and certainly what Wooden
referred to. If you do the same drill over and over, yes, the skills
will be repeated and perhaps learned. Hockey though requires skills be
acquired in a variety of ways and situations. Crossover turns, for
instance, can indeed be done around a circle ad nauseam. That same skill
should also be repeated around a dot, or two dots, or a player, etc. In
other words, the skill’s fundamentals don’t change; the “environment”
does.

Wooden was right. We need to teach using repetition at all levels.
Even tactics like 1 on 1s need to be done multiple times under various
conditions for players to understand and apply the tactics and skills
required. The coach’s challenge is to find innovative ways to do it so
that by the end of practice, no one pays any heed to the cold and wet.

]]>Tue, 14 Jun 2016 14:00:46 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27113

This is a continuation of last week’s blog on integrating creativity into drills and practices.

You can’t see learning nor can you easily measure it, particularly in
kids’ sport. This means the coach’s question about what they’re
learning in the “choose your pylon” exercise is nearly impossible to
answer. We can provide strong observations, all purely anecdotal, but
that’s about it.

What I’ve noticed among coaches at all levels is an impatience with
development. If kids can’t do a drill quickly and properly, are they
improving and/or learning? The word “fun” is usually left out. Can’t
drills be fun?

Yes, in fact, creative ones usually are. Back to the puckhandling
exercise, something I’ve used frequently with kids in teaching
situations. The players do it two or three times before I change it;
sometimes they go around three pylons, sometimes seven; sometimes they
can only go backwards; sometimes they’re allowed to poke check someone’s
puck and protect their own; and sometimes they have to do acrobatic
stuff en route, like jumping over lines or rolling over. They have a
blast and for the most part, every choice of what they do or where they
go is theirs as they work at being creative.

The coaches’ eyes widened when I described the possibilities.
Devising a drill - for lack of a better word - that strays from the
standard issue isn’t hard. I asked the coaches how they could change my
puckhandling exercise to address their own teams’ needs. What I got was
quite a lengthy list of options. One coach even suggested having the
kids carry the stick the opposite way, i.e. righties become lefties and
vice versa.

The key was, I said, to create a base drill and build on it, as long
as the players had to make choices. Plus, throwing in a competitive
component now and then would add to the fun.

Is there a time and place for the static pylon course drill? Sure. We
know repetition plays a critical role in learning, especially with the
development of fundamental skills or tactics. Even repetition though can
have creative components.

I asked the coaches in that session to give ways to teach passing
while the kids are moving. Each coach who provided an answer then had to
build on the drill with a simple variation. Example: The kids skate
around the rink passing to a partner. Variations: one-touch passes,
passes while going backwards, passes with one going forward and one
backwards, passes off the boards, passes off the skates, passes while
jumping over every line on the ice, etc.

The response from both coaching groups was entirely positive. Their
eyes had been opened by the unending options surrounding any typical
skill or tactical drill.

By creating more interesting (and fun) drills, they’d be tapping into
their players’ creativity as well. Hockey is not a static sport, which
means how we teach it can’t be static either.

]]>Tue, 07 Jun 2016 10:28:56 -0400/blog/redirect?id=27066

A hockey association once contacted me about doing a special
classroom session for its coaches. The fellow in charge was the
association’s mentor coach. He wasn’t quite sure what topic to do
because there’d been so many suggestions from his coaches on what they
wanted. His own view was that what they wanted wasn’t necessarily
consistent with what they needed. Quite right and good for him for the
approach.

He offered me two choices: a teaching defenceman clinic or one on
defensive team play. Since these were to be mostly house league and
entry level competitive team coaches, I countered with creativity. The
other topics, I suggested, were too specialized and advanced. Creativity
though was something to play with.

At my request, we had two sessions: one for novice, atom, pee wee
coaches and then a second one for bantam and midget coaches. Both
presentations opened with a statement a house contractor once told me.
"It's construction,” he said. “You can do anything."

So it goes with creativity. Since children learn best through play,
the time-worn habit of drilling them constantly stifles any chance for
creativity and may actually impede learning. However, hockey is unique
in that you absolutely must be able to skate to play. It’s an action
foreign to the human body, unlike running. They need to first be able to
skate, or at the very least, sort of manoeuvre on skates. It was from
that foundation coaches could build creativity into practices.

Doing what? How? The challenge for these coaches began with their own
brains. They were locked into the drill mode. Never mind drills, I
said. What’s fun? Let’s look at puckhandling as an example. Do we really
need to direct them through pylon courses? Or would it be more
interesting (creative) to ask the kids to choose, for instance, five
pylons to go around - in five different ways.

To illustrate, I drew 10 Xs scattered inside an end zone. Each kid
has a puck and finds a place to stand on the blueline. They need to
choose five pylons and go around each with the puck. They can go
backwards or forwards, with or without crossovers, perhaps using sharp
turns, and handling the puck in any fashion. However they can’t go
around any two pylon the same way. When done they return to the
blueline.

Let’s tackle that answer next week, along with other points related to the development of creativity.

]]>Tue, 31 May 2016 15:28:43 -0400/blog/redirect?id=26050

A few coach interview answers that won’t get you far:

Why are you applying for this team?My last three teams didn’t make the playoffs and it sure wasn’t my
fault. So I figured I should try instead to get a team that is a
surefire bet to win.

We see you recently obtained the proper certification to coach at this level. What did you get from that clinic?Not much really. The lunches were okay. Desserts were gone by the
time I got to the table but that’s because I’m a slow eater. I plan to
write to the organizers about it. The wifi was a bit wonky, too. I had a
real tough time checking emails. We could have used a few more breaks
between topics. The one speaker I really liked was the guy from the AHL
talking about scouting. His jokes were terrific. Plus juggling a pencil,
a cell phone and an apple? Wow. Blew me away.

With respect to skills vs. tactics in practice, which is a priority for this age group?Tactics of course. The kids get all that skill stuff in the summer
and from Lace ’em Hockey Academy sessions throughout the season. I don’t
see a reason to do more. Besides, I’m a poor teacher of passing and
stuff. But I can teach forechecks and power play all day, so the
priority will be on those. Keep in mind the kids are eight years old and
have probably seen enough skills drills already.

What does teach through progression mean to you?Breakouts first. Then zone entries. Then forechecks. Then backchecks.
Might squeeze in neutral zone transition somewhere. The defensive zone
play. But I’m flexible on that last one. I might do dee zone first and
then breakouts. Depends on the last couple of games.

How do you use your assistant coaches?I have one for the defencemen and one for the forwards. I make the
line changes for both but they’re in charge of giving the players
feedback. We discuss before the game what things I want them to focus
on. In practices, I run all the drills and the assistants set up the
cones and pucks. But I handle the actual teaching.

What’s your approach in communicating with parents?Simple. I don’t communicate with the parents. That’s the manager’s
job. I talk to them at the first parents meeting and that’s it. Seems to
me they all have ulterior motives for every comment or question so I’ve
learned to stay clear. When I have a problem with a kid, I lay it out
for the kid with my manager or an assistant present.

Do you have long term goals for your coaching?First, win this year. Then look for a job in the pros, maybe the AHL or Europe for starters.

]]>Tue, 24 May 2016 14:33:12 -0400/blog/redirect?id=26010

There exists a hockey forum website which has comments about the
worth of the high performance coaching seminar, especially for those who
played pro hockey and wish to coach minor hockey.

Now that AAA (bantam and older) and junior coaches in Canada need
High Performance 1 coaching qualifications, the debate about its worth
has been reignited. On that site, there was one fellow who whined he got
more out of the evening beer ‘n’ bull sessions than the clinic itself.
Someone else ranted about ex pro major junior coaches who aren’t allowed
to coach their kids in AAA because of the rule. Then there was the
ignorant and baseless argument that these seminars are little more than
cash grabs for the host area. I wouldn’t suggest then that the handful
of comments were a representative sample of opinions from across the
country.

Nevertheless, this argument won’t disappear for a few reasons. For
one thing, the Canadian hockey culture is not built on the notion that
coaching is a learned and trainable skill. Unlike in other parts of the
world, particularly Europe, coaching hockey (or any sport) requires
training and education. Not here. To many of a certain ilk, if you’ve
played, you can coach.

As well, people - quite mistakenly - equate coaching certification
with competence. It’s rubbish. While the High Performance seminar and
evaluation process are extensive, they aren’t just make-work projects.
They’re designed to help coaches learn the value of planning,
self-evaluation, and examination of options for their teams, not to
mention addressing the myriad of issues and problem-solving situations
coaches face daily. I’ve been involved with about a dozen HP seminars
and have yet to meet a bad coach who suddenly became competent by
attending. Nor have I seen a decent coach become terrific because he got
90% on the assignments. Indeed, some see the HP as a hoop to jump
through rather than a means to improve one’s coaching skills. But you
can’t change attitudes easily. The former pro who sees his own
experiences at the game’s pinnacle as being all that is necessary to
coach is not doing himself nor his players any favours. Just try to
change his mind.

A number of NHL coaches have taken the accreditation courses: Pat
Quinn, Mike Babcock, Bob Hartley, Dave King, Ken Hitchcock, Tom Renney,
to name a few. Would they have still been coaching in the NHL without
them? Yes. However, as professional coaches, each would state that the
extra education they received in these courses helped. In fact, some
have been quite public about it, particularly King, Hartley, Babcock and
Renney.

At a minimum, the HP experience provides coaches more tools to work
with. Those who attend as if in chains, regarding it as a few days lost
they’ll never get back, don’t get it.

“To those who understand, no explanation is necessary; to those who don’t understand, no explanation will suffice.”

]]>Wed, 18 May 2016 13:09:26 -0400/blog/redirect?id=25986

On the day Prince died, CNN interviewed Jimmy Jam, an old school
friend and fellow artist. In middle school, he said, they had to take a
music class which consisted mostly of simple keyboard pieces. Even at
that young age though, Prince was an accomplished musician. Whenever the
teacher left the class, asking them to learn trivial bits like “Mary
had a little lamb,” Prince and his buddy would break into rock mode and
jam away until the teacher returned. Evidently, either the teacher
didn’t know they were well beyond the class level, or just didn’t know
how to deal with it.

As a teacher myself, I always feared having to deal with the two
extremes: the student who was incapable of dealing with the curriculum
or the one for whom the curriculum was an annoyance to survive until
grad school.

It’s a problem minor coaches occasionally face, too. How do you deal
with a player whose skills are far beyond the rest of the team? Do you
have a little Crosby on your squad? I don’t mean a parent’s perception
of their child. There are plenty of those misguided people. No, this
would be a youngster who was perhaps misplaced or for some strange
reason didn’t make a higher level team, yet is a standout.

That’s a question that often comes up in coach clinics, too. The rule
of thumb was generally to try to coach/teach your team to the upper
third. That way, the best kids are challenged; the middle group have to
push themselves; the bottom third won’t likely reach the top third in
skill this season anyway, but at least they know what they need to do
over the long haul. The alternative is to teach to the middle third and
leave the top third bored silly.

But when you have just one or two “superstars,” you’re almost damned
if you do and damned if you don’t. Coddle the kid and you risk
alienating the rest of the team under accusations of favouritism, not to
mention perhaps creating even more of a monster. But ignore him at your
peril.

Prodigiously talented kids usually figure out early on they’re
special and that few of their future teams will be properly equipped to
keep them motivated and still develop their talents. Is there an
assistant coach who can spend more time with the player? Are there extra
skill sessions available so that team practices, no matter how good,
don’t give the impression that the star’s immense talent is being
squandered.

Perhaps the most interesting interview of all would be with a former
child star, like Gretzky, Lemieux or Crosby, to hear what they’d say
about the subject.

]]>Tue, 10 May 2016 10:16:28 -0400/blog/redirect?id=25961

At a High Performance 1 seminar not long ago, a midget AAA coach
shared his yearly plan with the other attendees. I rather suspect he
shocked them with the detail. There were macro and micro cycles, phases…
the entire gamut of events of how a seasonal plan for elite athletes
could be done. I can’t say whether or not he was able to stick with the
plan or even if he was an effective coach. But the plan was
impressive—and overwhelming.

Over the years, I’ve tinkered with various sorts of plans and tried
some with organizations where I’ve been a mentor or development
director. Indeed, there will always be coaches who like the concepts and
others who find it tedious, unnecessary paperwork. The challenge then
is to come with a straightforward plan that has enough flexibility to
allow for quick changes. Technology has provided an answer.

For the longest time, I’d ask coaches for written plans divided into
segments, usually month-by-month. They’d fill in what needed to be
taught. Not many stuck with it because it was just too difficult to
predict in August or September where your team would be developmentally
in November or December. Besides, many coaches just didn’t have a handle
on the array of skills or tactics available. A great many key items
were overlooked.

Then I wondered about providing coaches a menu as part of a broader
curriculum that was adjusted for each year and level. I created a list
of items with the proviso that, no matter when they were taught in a
season, the kids would at least be introduced to each one. The
flexibility for the coach was to determine which ones to present and
when. You can see a tiny portion of the menu in the graphic at the top
of this blog.

Using the shared google docs platform, coaches simply selected skills
from the list and wrote in the months they’d likely be taught. When
they were actually taught and reviewed was recorded by date. For
instance, a two-foot stop might be planned for October, taught on Oct.
22, then reviewed on Nov. 15. As a shared document, I could see when
they were teaching which skills and then follow up by watching
practices. If there were three coaches in this age group and level,
their menus would be on the same spreadsheet so each coach could see
what the others were teaching and when.

The benefits:

• Coaches didn’t need to research or create skills inventories; they were provided

• The menu was a living document in that coaches could change what was done and when

• It had a clear objective: provide your kids with instruction on
these items. If you can do more, great. If not, what you have is plenty.

• You’re providing your players with a hockey education, so a curriculum is not only appropriate but also necessary.

There are a lot ways to create coaching plans. Is it worth a try?

]]>Tue, 03 May 2016 14:54:18 -0400/blog/redirect?id=25935

In most places, there are multiple levels in an age group. Large
associations may have seven such levels; smaller ones three or four.
There’s no manual one could create that could effectively address the
range and depth of technical challenges for all of them at once.
Similarly, there’s no single plan which could do it.

This presents coaches with a real challenge. Aside from the LTPD
document and Hockey Canada’s skills pyramid, a coach at any level is
left to his own devices to determine what’s applicable at a level. This
is where a proper curriculum in the form of a menu would serve them
well.

Here’s how to do it:

1. Total your expected practice time for the season. For instance, if
you have 30 hrs (where an hour is actually a 50-min. block), this
becomes 1,500 mins of practice time.

2. Subtract about 10% for warmups (150 mins) and another 20% for
small area or low organization games at the end (300 mins) since these
are not formal teaching situations.

Also subtract about 10% of on-ice group organization/demo time (150 mins).

This leaves 900 mins for actual instruction.

3. For your team’s level and age group, consider the approximate
percentage of time needed for skills vs. individual tactics, etc. In
atom, for instance, Hockey Canada recommends about 50% on technical skills.

This translates to about 450 mins on pure skill instruction

4. Now the tough part—though keep in mind a plan is a live document
that will be adjusted over the season. Compile a list of key skills your
kids need to be introduced to by the end of the season. Whether or not
they master them is not important for planning purposes. So an atom
recreational group might need 10 skating skills. There could be another
bunch of puckhandling/passing skills, more for shooting, etc.

How much of the 450 mins will be spent on skating skills versus puckhandling or others?

Let’s say you believe 300 of the 450 mins need to be spent on skating.

5. Take those 300 mins for skating and assign them to particular
months. For example, 100 mins in each of October and November and 50
mins in each of December and January. Remember those minutes are spread
over a certain number of practices. But you have flexibility to allocate
them in any number of ways. Your 100 October minutes could be 20 mins
in each of five practices, or whatever you feel is best, given your
practice time allotment.

6. Repeat for all the skills and tactics. Remember that you’ve
already allowed time for warm ups, fun cool down activities and
organizational time.

You now have the makings of a decent yearly plan based on a viable
curriculum. You don’t even have to glue yourself to it. Kids may succeed
quicker at a skill, in which case you can cut the time spent on it and
carry it over to another more needy one.

But what to do, and when? That’s for next week.

]]>Tue, 26 Apr 2016 11:56:50 -0400/blog/redirect?id=25886

Should recreational (house league) level coaches have a plan?

First, the cynical answers:

1 - Good grief, why would I need a plan for a bunch of kids who don’t really care?

2 - I’m using mostly the same drills as the local pro team, tweaked a bit. Isn’t that enough?

3 - Whatever went wrong in the last game or two provides me with plenty to plan for the next practice.

4 - Who has time for this stuff? I’m just a volunteer keeping kids active.

That’s
what I hear. Often. Perhaps though the point isn’t that coaches at
these levels require a plan so much as a roadmap and direction on where
to be and when. I sure don’t want to see volunteers forced into creating
complex plans with cycles, segments, objectives and whatnot. Most have
neither the expertise nor experience to create such things, let alone
the will to abide by them.

Still, we need to call it something else. Curriculum works best. But first, the rebuttals to the cynical points listed above:

1
- Kids do care. They may not be as intense nor as skilled, but they
want to learn and improve. For the most part, they understand their
limitations and are aware other kids on competitive teams are better.
That doesn’t mean they’re satisfied with being poor players. No one
wants to be poor at something.

2 - Tweaking drills from other
sources is terrific so long as the tweaking takes into account the vast
differences between a child and a pro or older adolescent. Moreover, the
manner in which drills are packaged and presented along with other key
practice factors are integral to the tweaking being appropriate. Most
important of all is having skills and tactics that are suitable for the
age and level, no matter how pretty the drill.

3 - Bandaids for a broken leg don’t work either. As they say, it’s a marathon, not a sprint.

4
- You still need to have some idea of goes into those practices. It’s
actually easier and less time consuming once there’s a plan than trying
to “wing it” every time you get to the rink. As well, the kids will be
more engaged and will happily follow your excellent lead.

5 - Good
point. But what if a curriculum was provided where all you had to do
was select from a menu of skills and tactics and determine when they
need to be taught? Less thinking for you, less experience required, more
appropriate learning opportunities for your players.

Next week, a look at some simple curriculum plans that anyone can use.

]]>Tue, 19 Apr 2016 08:16:29 -0400/blog/redirect?id=24872

What if… you decline the opportunity to appeal a ruling which would give your team another chance?

It’s the sudden death quarterfinal of a Tier 2 recreational level
atom game. In other words, the kids are 9-10 years old. As the second
tier, there’s quite a mixed bag of skill, from very poor to a couple on
every team who can lift the puck and put it sort of where they aim. The
game is tied 2-2 after regulation, which leads to a next-goal-wins
overtime.

About halfway through the OT, one of the two kids on the opposition
who can actually skate and shoot steps by your defenceman at your
blueline. Your defenceman trips him. The ref, who’s about 14, calls a
tripping penalty. But at the penalty box, his partner in the two-man
system talks to him and it becomes a penalty shot. Except the kid who
got tripped was hurt and can’t take the shot. The ref tells the other
team to pick someone else.

You call over the ref to argue that only a player on the ice at the
time can take the shot (which is correct). Your kids gather at the bench
to listen in. It’s a chaotic scene. The ref insists anyone can take it
and allows the shot to be taken—with a few players from each team
kneeling on the ice near their benches, another officiating gaffe.

The opposition has two gunners: the kid who was tripped and another
boy who was on the bench. They pick him. He scores. Game and your season
over.

The opposition does its cheering then gathers at centre to shake
hands. But you’re still at your bench with your players as you argue
again with the ref who chose to hang around.

Should you have argued AFTER the shot?

Immediately after the game, angry parents approach you to appeal the
result based on the official’s erroneous call. One parent videotaped the
OT and can identify which opposition kids were on the ice at the time.
Do you appeal in a tier two atom recreational level game? Or do you just
explain to your kids that the ref made a mistake and that’s the way it
goes?

Here’s what happened: the team did appeal and won. Both teams report
to a rink a couple of days later. The penalty shot is replayed, but is
taken by the original injured player because now he’s healthy (he
couldn’t have taken it originally because he could barely move). If he
scores, the teams leave after what is a two minute warmup and zero
playing time.

He scores. Remember he was one of two on that team who could do it.
Game over, again. They leave triumphant, again. Your kids hang around
for an impromptu practice. Then they go home, again.

Was it worth it?

]]>Tue, 12 Apr 2016 09:44:23 -0400/blog/redirect?id=24856

Is your child an elite player? If so, watch out.

I got an
email once from a bantam parent whose son is, by all accounts, pretty
good. The kid is 5’ 4” tall and weighs about 135 lbs. For bantam, that’s
a tad on the smaller side. He’s going into midget and the parent
wondered about the need for his son to attend the plethora of camps run
by junior clubs or league/regional programs, ostensibly to scout or at
least identify talent.

Wouldn’t they already know about him, he asked?

Do I really need to spend all this extra dough on one camp after another?

Is there a safety issue for him going to these and possibly being up against other midget age boys as much as two years older?

Yes.

No.

Maybe.

I
felt for the man. Unless you’ve already been through the mill with a
child or scouted or coached at this level yourself, no parent could feel
completely comfortable with the not-so-subtle invitations. Will my boy
be blackballed or shunted to the bottom of the draft list? Will coaches
or scouts suspect he’s afraid to be up against all the other top
prospects at one time? Is hockey not a priority for him next year? Will
people wonder if we realize the kid’s potential? Or are we just being
difficult? Can he go to only certain camps? Which ones? How to choose?
Is it being overly protective to keep him away from kids two or three
years older and more physically mature? Does he even want to go to any
of these? Is my parenting going to be called into question no matter
what choice we make?

Some years back, renowned American sports
psychologist Thomas Tutko gave a talk at a hockey conference. His
presentation was taped and shown at coaching clinics. He made numerous
marvelous points about the impact of coaches and parents on young
players. However, one comment in particular stood out. To paraphrase,
just because your child is able to play elite sport does not make you a
better parent.

In that vein, asking questions about attending
camps surely doesn’t make one a worse parent. If you hold the boy back
from some or all and he does another activity, that doesn’t make you a
bad parent either. You’re not denying the boy an opportunity; in fact,
you may be doing him a big favour. Exposing him to other sports and
allowing him much needed rest after a long season are two sound reasons.

Indeed,
it’s exciting having a kid who’s in elite company in anything. It’s
also a path fraught with potholes which need careful negotiating. Drive
carefully.

]]>Tue, 05 Apr 2016 13:31:02 -0400/blog/redirect?id=24820

Six months after starting with your team, you and the kids are practiced out.

They’ve had enough of your warm ups, cool downs, fancy drills,
technical jargon (“a Mohawk turn!?”), and rink board hieroglyphics.
You’re tired of the same kids acting up or not trying hard or cheating
in drills, let alone needing to control or discipline them.

Everyone wants a break from everyone. Alas, there are still a few
weeks to go and you’ve even tossed in a couple more practices. Squeeze
in one more breakout drill, one more 1-on-1 drill, one more neutral zone
regroup drill (good grief! why!?)... There must be a bit of masochism
in every minor hockey coach.

Halt! Desist! Don’t do it!

Give yourself and the kids a break. Yes, yes, we all want to teach
the entire canon of hockey tactics in one season. We know it doesn’t
make sense, but we still want to do it. Isn’t there another kind of
forecheck they should know?

Take your final practices in an entirely new direction: Fun. Just fun
stuff. Small area games, low organization games, relays, even get a
guest coach or two to run them.

Why?

1. Change of pace. Minor hockey is the longest of any
activity kids do aside from school. If the players are high school age
and are semestered, it’s even longer than that. Variety is crucial to
keep anyone motivated and wanting more. Besides, changing it up puts the
coach in a more positive light, even if you’re the best coach in the
hemisphere.

2. Subtle link to what’s been taught: Teach without teaching.
Review without reviewing. The secret to making end-of-season practices
both fun and worthwhile is to create activities, not drills, that are
somewhat linked to what you’ve done during the season. Playing a
cross-ice mini-game that focuses on passing is a terrific way to
reinforce passing skills if you’ve taught a lot of it during the season.
Relay races with agility built in allow you to see how much your
players have progressed after a few months of agility skating
instruction.

3. Competition can be fun: Most activities coaches do during
the season are without much resistance, which is proper especially for
new skills or tactics. By the end though, you want to see the kids
trying things under duress, as close to replicating the playoff game
experience as possible. The only way is to have competitive activities.
At the same time though, you want those activities to enable the kids to
experience some success. Thus, a 3 vs. 3 cross-ice game will be far
more beneficial than 4 vs. 4 or 5 vs. 5.

Doing these kinds of things doesn’t mean abdicating your leadership
or coaching roles. It’s just a different look, one that usually pays off
with increased confidence.

]]>Tue, 29 Mar 2016 15:15:18 -0400/blog/redirect?id=24776

Let’s say you have a beef with (pick any that apply):

• Your kid’s coach

• The league director

• The rules

• How teams were formed

• The association’s board members (all or some)

• The shape of the puck

Complain all you want during a season. The stock response may be,
“Then come to the Annual General Meeting (AGM) and either speak up or
run for a position yourself.” The offer does make a point. If there’s
something you believe needs attention, stewing about it for seven months
of a season won’t make you feel better. Then again, an AGM might not
either. These things aren’t exactly high brow entertainment, even though
they’re always in 3D.

The only exciting one I ever attended was the one in which I lost the
presidency. It was the largest turnout the association had ever seen.
Once word got out of my ambition, parents and hockey types showed up
either to watch me go down in flames or to observe me as a pitiable
curiosity.

I lost by six votes. The chap who won, also a coach, possessed a few
tools my toolbox lacked. Tact was one. Diplomacy another. Now, years
later, I heave a sigh of relief for the association. I escaped what
surely would have morphed into a leadership vacuum.

Actually, everyone has the right to complain whenever they wish.
Which they do. Frequently. Hockey boards listen to and act on complaints
because it comes with the territory.

Still, it behooves parents to go to AGMs for a number of important reasons:

Meet the board: While the face of minor hockey is the coach,
most everything else is done by the association’s board. These are
largely names on a list or website, sometimes someone you know, but
often not. You want to meet your kid’s teacher from time to time? Then
you should want to meet the board, too.

Face-to-face: Hockey parents are renowned for writing email
tomes or leaving nasty voicemail messages. Meeting someone in person to
pose a question or express dissatisfaction can be disarming and
illuminating. The people who run your child’s hockey program and tinker
with your hard-earned money are ones you need to meet. Hiding behind an
email is - sorry - a bit cowardly.

If you aren’t part of the solution…: Not buying a lottery
ticket eliminates any chance of winning, however minute. Similarly, not
being involved nor asking pointed questions driven by well-thought out
rationales gives you nary a hope of eliciting a satisfactory response,
let alone an improvement.

Take ownership: Even if you say or do nothing, you’ll feel part of the process simply for having been there and listened.

In Hockey Canada’s long and luscious history, every person who has served on a board at any level began by going to an AGM.

]]>Tue, 22 Mar 2016 13:02:56 -0400/blog/redirect?id=24759

About six years ago, I began guitar lessons. My teacher, a musician
and sound technician, started me with basic skills on a fretlight
guitar, one which lights up to show where you put your fingers. It was
as frustrating as could be. I felt like a five-year-old trying to pick
up a hockey stick for the first time without falling. Never mind skating
(i.e. playing a song).

Not once did he swear at me. If he had, as an adult, I likely would
have sworn right back at him. Or stuffed a guitar pick up his beak. But
for some odd reason music teachers don’t swear at their students, no
matter how awful they are. When my daughter was in a community drama
troupe, the director didn’t swear either. Come to think of it, not once
in my 36 years of teaching did I ever hear or know of a colleague who
swore at their students.

Why it’s accepted in minor hockey leaves me baffled.

I know many terrific coaches. Well intentioned, smart, motivated to
improve, love the kids. When I bring up the subject with some of them,
they uniformly think it’s not a disaster if they drop the odd nasty
word. I agree, it’s not a disaster. It’s just uncalled for,
unprofessional and “un-adultlike.”

What would these coaches say if the grade seven teacher snapped at
their children to learn their %$#!!&$@$ rules of equations?

Here’s a tale for you. The coach of a AAA team of kids less than 15
years old had a disastrous season. He was incapable of controlling them,
taught little, and often showed poor self-control. His competence was
frequently questioned by parents who wanted him removed in October.
Others though didn’t want to cause a stir lest their boys be
black-balled. Complaints to the association were frequent. Nothing was
done. They limped to the end, happy to be rid of each other.

He frequently swore at kids in practice from the outset. When asked
my thoughts on it, I said this was a deal-breaker. If a coach of young
boys has to resort to that kind of language, he doesn’t belong. I’d
rather have a weaker technical coach but one who respects the boys and
his position. This fellow demonstrated neither. He should have been
dragged by his tongue into a board meeting and told plainly to clean up
his mouth or he’d be gone. It never happened. To some degree then, I
blame the association for not stepping in, but that’s another
discussion.

How should parents evaluate coaches? Perhaps the first question to ask is, should parents do it at all?

The answer to the second question is a resounding yes. Parents ought
to have the opportunity to assess their child’s experience. It’s not
just because they’re footing the bill; it’s also because they have an
important vested interest in the team or organization and it behooves
that team to provide an appropriate learning environment. The vast
majority of parents want their children’s hockey experiences to be good,
safe, and fun ones. People—yes, even hockey parents—are basically
reasonable. They recognize when their kids are having a good time and
learning. Results may colour their views a bit, but mostly only in the
extreme.

The parent perspective is an important one. Whereas a coach may see a
child just a handful of hours weekly, the parent lives with the kid.
They see the pouts and grins and hear the comments daily. Kids are
candid in their views and perceptions. If something is either amiss or
going well, a parent will know. It’s through this lens that a parent can
share with a team or association how the season has gone. It should
have nothing to do with results, unless the team is being blown out
and/or showing undisciplined behaviour.

With some justification, minor hockey bodies are a bit afraid of
parents. Perhaps then it’d be better if they got in front of issues
through early communication and evaluations that tell parents their
voices are going to be heard and their opinions, if explained rationally
minus the vitriol, have merit.

What can an evaluation tell us? Plenty if worded smartly with
questions which don’t address either actual results or a coach’s
technical/tactical skills. Team results in minor hockey don’t correlate
well to coaching skills. I’ve seen many great coaches saddled with weak
teams in traditionally small poorly developed hockey areas and some
horrible coaches whose teams win on sheer talent. There are those, too,
who opt to coach teams that have a strong likelihood of winning. How do
you measure that?

As far as skills instruction and practice planning are concerned, few
parents are qualified to offer accurate, objective observations. They
can, however, say if their child enjoyed the practices or improved over
the season. They should also be able to report with some conviction
whether or not the coach has created a respectful and safe environment
both on and off the ice.

In fact, a carefully worded parent survey can put a hockey
association in a positive light. It shows the parents’ observations are
both valued and important.

Aren't they?

]]>Tue, 08 Mar 2016 13:32:06 -0400/blog/redirect?id=24696

I wanted to scream.

Instead, exhibiting much restraint, I paced,
rubbed my eyes, and covered my mouth just in case bad thoughts morphed
into words and slipped out. All I could think of was how come people
don’t get it.

Here was the scenario: I’m in this rink awaiting
the next group to go on the ice, which happens to be a program I’m
overseeing. In the hour preceding ours, a group of tiny girls are in a
ringette program. They’re maybe 4-6 years old. Only a handful can do
much more than walk quickly. They haven’t improved much since the fall.
Their leaders, young ladies who are clearly experienced players, have
been doing lots of fun and cute things with them all year. Teddy bears
on the ice and little toys and occasionally treats when they leave the
ice. Fun and cute, but not really fun, cute and effective teaching.

On
this morning, I think they’re trying to teach them how to actually play
the game. So they set up nets at each ringette line the length of the
rink. They put half the group around one net, about eight kids, and half
at the other. They put out one ring and encourage the heck out of the
girls to do what ringette players are supposed to do. Except that, like I
said, most can’t skate and never touch the ring. The handful who do
touch it monopolize the game, such as it is, in a space that might as
well be the Mediterranean – if it could freeze.

Watching from the lobby, my stomach churns. I desperately want to jump on the ice, drag the leaders in and say:

“Ladies, they can’t skate. Make the space, oh, the size of a circle.”
“Give one ring for every two girls.”
“Never mind the nets. They can’t see them without binoculars.”
“Put the better skaters with each other - all four of them!”
“How enticing do you think it is for a child who can barely move to be urged to corral a ring they can’t get to!?”
“Which part of this is fun?”
“Too big a space! TOOOOO BIIIIIGGG!”
AAARGHHH! (inner thoughts)

But
hockey is only marginally better with its cockeyed physical game
structure. I was recently chatting with someone in a Toronto-area rink
while watching my niece play. This couple’s six year old son plays Tyke
level (six year olds) something or other, full ice, 6-on-6, with
goalies...gosh, just like the pros. The mother made a comment that the
team was having some difficulty learning positions.

I wanted to scream. No, really, I did...

]]>Tue, 01 Mar 2016 14:21:26 -0400/blog/redirect?id=24639

Some of my early teaching years were spent bouncing between senior high
school and grades 5-8. The most difficult adjustment had nothing to do
with curriculum, timetables or class sizes. It was learning how to
change the approach from dealing with adolescents to little kids and
back again, sometimes in the same day.

This is what teachers do
though. They’re professionals, usually well trained, and armed with
considerable support mechanisms. Often teachers spend their formative
years in the profession doing exactly what I did before narrowing their
preferred grade levels.

In minor hockey however, we see a rather
different model, one that forces (or should force) coaches to adapt to
new age groups almost annually. For instance, the majority of coaches at
the younger age levels, pee wee and under, coach their own children’s
teams. Each season they go to the next age group with their kids until
either the coach or child says enough.

As coaches learn all too
quickly, the six months between seasons can bring about a host of
changes in kids. The squeaky-voiced 12 year old in March returns in
September with a stubble beard and a body ripped from summer workouts.
Because coaches generally only know the age groups their own kids are
in, moving up to a new one is not straightforward. This is one of the
weaknesses in our volunteer system. Our coaches know they need to adapt
just from watching their own children change. But how?

From a
technical standpoint, there’s plenty of guidance available. Hockey
Canada and its branches provide charts and skill inventories that are
excellent starting points. Here’s what you teach atoms, but here’s what
you should be teaching pee wees, etc. It’s impossible though to come up
with a definitive chart for a particular level or team. The coaches are
left on their own.

To make it even more challenging, a coach may
have a recreational bantam team one year and the next season his son
makes the lowest tier midget competitive team. Aside from the leap of 14
to 15 year olds, this coach has to deal with a far different set of
expectations and skills. It may be that only his child and a couple of
others succeeded in going a level up. The rest have long histories in
competitive hockey. They want more and expect more. A coach from a house
league setting may not be properly equipped to effectively make that
leap.

With little or no prior experience at either an older or
better calibre group (let alone both), a coach is left with a difficult
challenge. Retooling is easy to say, not so easy to do.

]]>Tue, 23 Feb 2016 10:47:31 -0400/blog/redirect?id=24619

If I’m near a rink, I’ll wander in and take a look. Part of it is
selfish. It’s not so much to steal drills, though there’s plenty of
theft I’d admit to. But it’s also because I regularly catch coaches
doing really neat things. I’m often amazed at just how much imagination
coaches use and so I’ll grab the opportunity to watch.

This
explains why I spent an hour one weekend afternoon watching a top level
atom practice. I’ve written about this one before, on Dec. 29, 2015. It
was the team that had one coach sort of coaching and the rest of the on
ice staff watching.

A preamble: every practice needs to have a
theme and clear objectives. Even when the drills stink or the feedback
is poor, if it’s obvious there was a method to the madness, it’s a
start. This one though was a puzzler. As each drill finished, I asked
myself if the warmup was over and we’d now get to the practice’s idea.
It never happened.

What I saw was a collection of drills. Some
were okay; a couple inappropriate; none linked to the others. It was as
if the coach needed to show his practices had variety. Well, he did have
variety. There was a figure eight around circles with a shot drill. A
one-on-one attack drill that used a pass from a foward to start. Nice
looking one when the pros or juniors use it. A bit of a mess with ten
year olds. A neutral zone regroup drill. A 3 on 2 drill. A couple of
hard skating drills, you know, to whip ‘em into shape. A faceoff
positioning drill where no one really moved unless the coach pointed to a
spot to go to.

Another bothersome aspect of the practice. Some
of the drills were as if the coach had yanked them from a book or junior
practice and figured they’d be fine for these littl’uns. The one on one
drill was a perfect example. Every play began with a whistle from the
coach. Then the kids would make a cross rink pass to a dee - just like
the pros - and circle in the centre zone to get one back from the other
side - just like the pros - then attack the initial 'D' - just like the
pros. Except children on a full size rink take longer, make more goofy
passes, often transition poorly, and generally don’t have anywhere near
the tactical sense of pros. Which is why pros and juniors are pros and
juniors, not ten year olds.

In the end, I wasn’t sure what the
point of it all was. Tactics? High-paced skill? Use of space?
Conditioning? Small group work? There was a bit of everything with none
of it linked nor was there any evidence of progressions. Maybe he’s a
great coach. Maybe because he has a few colourful drills, he’s seen to
be innovative.

Or maybe it’s just me, because I just didn’t get it.

]]>Wed, 17 Feb 2016 14:58:07 -0400/blog/redirect?id=24593

The play was in our corner. There was no place to stand on the bench to
see the ice other than to straddle players and precariously step around
them. As usual, I had a pen in one hand and a lineup card in the other.

The
fracas involved my short-tempered centre who was being penalized again
as the referee was just feet away and couldn’t miss it. Even as his arm
was going up, I was getting angry at the kid’s actions. Swiftly, there
was the usual pushing and whatnot, as midget AAA players might do. I was
scribbling something when my pen slipped from my hand. Since I was
huddled next to a seated player, the pen tapped off his helmet and
bounced in a lovely arc onto the ice, right in front of one linesman who
headed straight to the referee.

While my player went to the box,
the referee signalled to our bench that someone was to leave. I looked
up and down wondering who’d gestured or said something. But the referee
pointed at me. Huh, I shrugged. The linesman skated to me and told me
I’d been ejected. Why, I asked. He couldn’t say.

At the appeal
hearing, the referee testified the linesman informed him I’d thrown my
pen at him. When my turn came, I joked it would have been a feeble throw
as the pen went about two feet. I described what happened as the
referee sat across the table and listened. After hearing my story, he
reversed his decision, admitting he’d made a mistake. My ejection was
overturned; I won the appeal. That referee and I remain the best of
friends 25 years later.

What did I learn from this? Even the most
innocent action can be misinterpreted depending on where you are and at
what moment. Had the linesman not skated directly in front of me at
that very instant, he wouldn’t have seen the pen. If the bench had room
for me to stand without straddling bodies, the pen slip would have sent
it to the ground.

In mentoring coaches, I’m fairly stringent in
one thing: there’s hardly a reason to discuss anything with an official
in minor hockey other than for clarification. This is because most
coaches just don’t know how to control their emotions; others can’t pare
down their approach to something resembling a polite conversational
style minus gesticulations and posturing. Best then to do or say
nothing.

One could argue this doesn’t do much to enhance
referee-coach communication. Perhaps not. But until coaches are able to
communicate without a show, it’s surely the safer approach.

]]>Tue, 09 Feb 2016 12:00:48 -0400/blog/redirect?id=24551

Why should kids under age 10 rotate positions?

Let’s begin with
what Hockey Canada’s/CAC’s Long Term Player Development model. Hockey is
a late specialization sport. In other words, fundamental physical
literacy skills such as agility, balance and coordination do not come
easily nor do they begin to develop till about age 10. In fact, the LTPD
document states that a child should not be identified to a specific
position before age 10. Until they do, which is usually by the pre-teen
years, we actually do the kids a disservice by limiting their
developmental options which can lead to burnout, overuse injuries, poor
physical literacy, and so on.

When the children reach ages 9-10,
says the LTPD document, “players have the best opportunity to learn and
begin to master fine motor skills that can be used in combination with
other skills.”

So goes the theoretical argument. Anyone reading
this whose kid is a strong forward or defenceman would argue the child
is doing just fine, thank you, and leave well enough alone. Therein lies
the problem. The kid is doing okay this year. But is it in the best
interests of his/her development over the next few years?

From a
practical standpoint, learning to play the game is a long and complex
process. And as any coach knows all too well, just because something’s
been taught doesn’t mean it’s been learned. It makes no more sense to
tell eight or nine year olds they’re wingers than to slot third or
fourth grade students into subject areas according to their current
aptitudes. Parents would see that as ridiculous. Why do we promote or
allow it in hockey?

Like most things in minor hockey, rotating
positions, in whatever format it takes, has to be presented carefully,
with planning and forethought, early in the going. In fact, the coach
should inform the association that taking this team means rotations will
be done. At least that way the association has no choice but to support
the coach because they knew about from the outset. However, it’ll be
the parental units who will need to be sold on its value. You can’t do
it easily, if at all, once the season begins.

How many games or
practices will the child stay at the position? What happens if a child
(and the parent) are adamant? Does the fact it’s a house
league/recreational setting mean anything? Would you dare try it atom AA
or AAA?

Learning the game from different perspectives,
stretching one’s physical and mental skills, developing an appreciation
for in-game issues are some of the reasons supporting rotation. Then all
you need to do is sell it.

]]>Tue, 02 Feb 2016 13:26:42 -0400/blog/redirect?id=23464

When you stand before a class to teach, as I’ve done in both hockey and
the school system, there’s usually the expectation you’ll have an answer
for just about anything. Multiple options don’t count much. Saying,
“Gosh, I don’t know” isn’t exactly helpful either.

When I’m truly
stumped, I share my best dumbfounded look and answer with my own
questions. Yes, that’s the ticket. Turn the tables and try to elicit
responses from the questioner then dissect what they have to say.

Here’s
one for you: "Coach Richard, what do you think about kids playing
different positions in atom hockey?" To which I invariably reply,
“Personally I’m in favour. Next question…” But that doesn’t help.
Coaches want to know why. Most are in favour, too, but are at a loss to
offer parents and/or kids viable rationales to sell the idea. It’s
especially challenging for higher level or competitive teams and
practically impossible in mid-season without prior warning.

“My
kid’s a centre” or “my boy will not play defence on this team” are
common remarks from parents. They scuttle any plans the coach had to
expose kids to different positions. They also are somewhat contrary to
Hockey Canada’s Long Term Player Development plan where, from ages 6-10,
kids are just learning to take skills from practice to game. It’s the
ideal opportunity to allow them to apply new-found skills to different
positions.

But we as the game’s leaders haven’t done a great job
of selling that approach. Associations may suggest kids rotate
positions. However there’s a difference between a suggestion and a rule.
A coach could be expected to have them rotate yet not need to actually
do it. It would seem we need to educate first the coaches on its
benefits and then parents.

In both cases, that’s a tall order
once the season begins. Even at a recreational level, parents (and
perhaps their children, too) will argue the child “tried out” as a
defenceman and should remain there.

Meanwhile, to best meet the
needs of developing kids, the association creates its teams by placing
13 on each one, regardless of position. Then they leave it up to the
coach to find kids for each position, usually with assurances like,
“It’s only for a month.” Not exactly an endorsement for the approach’s
worth.

Once the season starts and there’s been no rotation per
se, or at least a minimal one, it’s difficult trying to convince a nine
year old to switch to forward after three months on 'D'. Not to mention
needing to find a child to switch with him. Then we’re down to begging
or bribing, neither of which provides a positive spin.

Next week, some reasons why we should be doing it and how to go about it.

]]>Tue, 26 Jan 2016 11:40:36 -0400/blog/redirect?id=23434

In the soon-to-be-released hockey film The Break
Out, Coach Harry Lindenheffer expresses frustration at his team’s inability to
exit their zone. In one scene at a practice, he spends 25 minutes trying to get
his wingers to stand in a spot and wait for a pass while the defenceman retrieves
the puck. They sort of get it, till Coach Harry throws in a forechecker at
which time the break out doesn’t happen. Never mind that most of the kids can’t
turn.

The title, by the way, refers to this coach of nine
year olds showing them how to “break out” of their childhood ways on the ice
and transform them into a regional youth hockey power, mostly on the strength
of their zone break out.

I’m producing and directing the film myself. It’s
running time will be about 12 seconds, which parallels the total time in a game
that a minor hockey team executes a designed and practiced break out. Hopefully
some CGI graphics can make it look like the puck gets to where it’s supposed to
go. I’ve contacted Al Pacino to play the lead. No response yet.

A friend of mine, an experienced elite coach, also
coaches his own kids in house league. He maintains that kids do need to learn
the game and certainly have to be able to get out of their zone. But, he
correctly adds, set break outs with stationary players and patterns don’t
happen and shouldn’t be taught for years.

I get frustrated watching coaches get frustrated. I’m
frustrated just writing about it.

I once saw a novice house league coach spend 15
minutes on a drill where Kid A had to retrieve the puck and pass to Kid B who
was told to stand on the nearest hash mark. As one could imagine (and predict),
Kid A did not know how to turn, let alone pick up the puck and face Kid B. When
Kid A did manage to swivel, the pass went, shall I say, awry. Meanwhile Kid B,
who hadn’t yet learned to put his stick on the ice, waited for a pass that sort
of arrived in the same time zone. Exasperated, the coach went on to something
else.

It would seem obvious that the ability to look, dig
out a puck, do a tight turn with it and manage a single pass anywhere is the
foundation of a break out. The proper timing of, say, a winger curling to the
boards and opening up for the pass would be the next stage.

The good news about my film is that it’s set up for an
endless list of comic and dramatic sequels.

]]>Tue, 19 Jan 2016 14:01:18 -0400/blog/redirect?id=23390

Let’s imagine your supervisor at work wants to get a handle on how
you’re doing your job. Your work is such that much of it is done on the
phone or through email. The supervisor decides to sit near your desk for
an hour to observe. What would he/she see?

You’re a stay-at-home
parent and your spouse wonders what you do all day. The spouse decides
to shadow you for an hour to find out. Except that the hour chosen is
the one when the baby is napping, the washing machine is on, the
breakfast dishes remain, and you’re on the couch, folding towels and
catching a few minutes of Law and Order. What would the spouse’s
conclusion be?

And so it goes when the likes of me need to go out
to assess practices done by the likes of you. We call these field
evaluations and they’re now being done for all coaches seeking High
Performance or Development 1 certification. We assess one practice for
each of those levels, though at HP, there’s also a game evaluation. The
process is detailed with a standard set of evaluation forms created by
the Coaching Association of Canada (CAC) and Hockey Canada.

The
most important part of the field evaluation though is the mentoring and
feedback. As in the two real world examples, it’d be unfair to base an
opinion of a coach’s practices on just one. This is particularly true
for the Development 1 level because coaches there generally have far
fewer practices. As a result, they need to do more multi-tasking of
skills and tactics, often taking short cuts through progressions.

No
matter the level though, these field evaluations point out some key
things about coaches’ soft skills, the ones that don’t really show
easily through drills. We used to call them teaching techniques and
probably not enough time is spent in coach training on what really is
the foundation: communication skills, how feedback is given, time
management, understanding age group considerations and their
relationship to practice content, etc. The best drills are worth little
if many of those teaching techniques aren’t solid.

The CAC/Hockey
Canada assessment tools effectively address these. Certainly the vast
majority of my time assessing practices is spent discussing them with
coaches in the pre-brief (time before the practice) and de-brief (time
after). In a few instances I’ve had to return for a second practice to
ensure the coach has addressed the concerns from the previous one.

One
practice is essentially a still frame snapshot from the film called
“Your season.” It’s only meant to give a sense of a coach’s approach and
to provide assistance. In other words, it’s a start.

]]>Wed, 13 Jan 2016 14:13:23 -0400/blog/redirect?id=23318

Whereas, we define a child as someone less than 11 years old,Whereas, hockey rinks were designed by adults to meet the needs of adults in an age when kids played the game outdoors,Whereas, the rink dimensions, net size, locations of lines, circles, and faceoff dots have not changed in a century or more,Whereas, children are, except for anomalies, much smaller that adults,Whereas,
it is fact that, depending on the quality of drinking water in the
area, children are physically weaker than adults or teenagers,Whereas,
it is acknowledged that by virtue of children being younger than adults
(also fact), they have less experience in just about everything,Whereas, it has been shown that children take generally considerably longer to reach any point on a rink than adults,Whereas, a child’s skill development is often slow and awkward,Whereas, better skilled children require opportunities in a space consistent with their size,Whereas, the hockey puck is the same size and weight as that used by Sidney Crosby and his ilk,Whereas, playing rules for said age group are almost identical to the aforementioned professionals,Whereas,
minor hockey is the only sport activity for children that has made no
adaptations for all of the above (save for game length),

Therefore be it resolved from this day forward:That teams maintain a ratio of a minimum of two practices for each game,That games be conducted on no larger than half the length of a conventional rink,That weaker skilled children, determined locally, will play across the rink in a single “zone,”That all games involve no more than four skaters plus a goalie, with cross rink games having one less,That the puck be proportionally reduced in size so that it weights 4 oz for novice age and 5 oz for atom age,That nets be no larger than 3 ft high and 5 ft wide for half length games and 2 ft by 4 ft for cross ice games,That
for half ice games, a yellow or orange line be painted across the rink
at the tops of the circles (currently known as the ringette line) and
that this line is the offside line, and no other line markings be used
(and none at all for cross ice games),That penalties in half ice
games be reduced to one minute for minors, with major and misconduct
penalties replaced by suspension for X number of shifts,That there
be no penalties in cross ice games, except for intentional acts in which
the child is replaced on the ice for a shift,That teams be comprised of just two “lines,” ie. 9 per team for half ice games and 7 per team in cross ice games.

Be it resolved that we, the adults who should know better, proclaim to make it for and about the kids (as we like to profess).

Signed, this New Day in January, 2016.

]]>Tue, 05 Jan 2016 14:36:26 -0400/blog/redirect?id=23276

I’m in a rink watching a competitive team practice. The practice content and how it was presented will be in another blog. The rink is a small one and I’m told by a spectator that normally this team practices elsewhere on a “proper” larger surface. But a tournament is happening there and the team was shifted to this one. The parent adds that this surface is “way too small” for these elite kids. (Note: they’re ten years old.)

I don’t answer. The reason it seems “way too small”, I say to myself, is because in addition to the 17 kids on the team, there is a goalie coach, two teenage helpers, a head coach and four - four! - assistants.

For much of the practice, the goalie coach is given an entire zone to work with his protégés. Having 15 ten year olds using two-thirds of the ice isn’t the problem. That’s more than enough space to run decent drills. But what are all those coaches doing? Not much actually.

Let’s start with the two teenagers who are probably there to assist with something. It’s not apparent what because for the entire time, they practice their own marvellous puck handling moves while occasionally rifling pucks off the glass to impress spectators. This happens during drills, during teaching stoppages, and during the time the head coach has brought in the kids to describe a drill. Not once does either talk to a child. However, by the end of the practice I do notice both boys’ moves have improved appreciably.

The head coach runs the drills. His four assistants watch. They watch when the coach demonstrates; they watch when he teaches; they watch when he stops the drill to offer more feedback; they even watch the teenagers practice their dangles and top shelf shots.

They look like nice, well-meaning dads who just want to be around the team and possibly help, though they don’t. The result is that the player:coach ratio for non-goalies could have been 3:1. Instead it’s 15:1.

More so-called coaches on the ice doesn’t make a better practice or teaching environment. It doesn’t even look good when you see four men and two teenagers not engaging with the kids at all. The practice plan wasn’t particularly stellar anyway. It might have been acceptable though if coaches were coaching.

Whose fault is it? I say it’s the head coach’s. Granted, maybe he has no faith in the assistants’ skills or knowledge. Perhaps they’re all new to this. Maybe, too, the teenagers were foisted on him.

Doesn’t matter. He should be briefing the staff on their roles and expectations, where to stand, when and where to give feedback and on what. The teens can assist with herding the kids or demonstrating, but must not play or shoot pucks at any time. Otherwise, leave.

This was a clear case of too many men on the ice.]]>Tue, 29 Dec 2015 14:28:18 -0400/blog/redirect?id=23255

Let’s play a little game of “What if…”

Body checking was removed by Hockey Canada from all
levels below bantam (ages 13-14) a couple of years ago.

Despite overwhelming evidence of injuries in body
checking leagues, there were still protestations about it ruining the game,
leaving kids ill-prepared, and so on.

Instead, an emphasis was placed on teaching kids the
proper lead-up skills. The idea was that when they got to bantam body checking
leagues, they’d at least have a foundation in proper skating techniques, stick checking
skills and angling. To that end, coaches have been required to take the new
Hockey Canada checking course to teach them how and what to teach kids. It’s a
darn good course and worth every minute.

Nevertheless, there is still that jump from zero body
checking in peewee to full checking in bantam. But what if body checking were
allowed only in certain zones? As well, what if no open ice checks were allowed
until a certain age?

For starters, USA Hockey is getting its arenas to
paint an orange line about a metre from the boards all around the rink. Called
the look-up line, it would act as a warning to players that when in orange, the
boards loom. Protect yourself accordingly. It serves an additional, perhaps
unintended, purpose. When you check someone who’s on the edge of the look-up
line, that player is likely to fall dangerously into the boards without
protection. However, when a player is inside the look-up line and alongside the
boards, a clean body check is likely to be “cushioned” by the boards. In
Canada, this line is being considered by the GTHL.

But what if we took body checking lines a bit further?
What if we said body checking was only allowed inside each blueline, not behind
the goal line and ONLY inside the look-up line? This could be for first year
bantams, for instance, where it might be a transition phase from the non-body
checking peewee level.

Is this a daft idea? Consider that, even with proper
progressive teaching in checking skills from the age of novice, first year
bantams still need to develop the confidence in how to check and be checked.

Thrusting them instantly into full checking mode just
may be pushing many beyond what they’re prepared for. Would it apply to every
level? Perhaps not, but it’d be interesting to see. The rule could be put in at
lower level competitive midget leagues, too.

I can almost see eyes rolling. “This removes open ice
checks, which are part of the game.” But are they so important in minor hockey?

“It’d be too complicated for officials to call.” But
why, since checking would only be permitted in certain areas and they’d
actually have less to watch.

“It’s not hockey.” Well, right, it’s not hockey as the
pros or juniors play it. But our young teens are neither. If long term player development
correctly identifies progressive coaching as per age and level, wouldn’t that
hold true across the board?

]]>Tue, 22 Dec 2015 10:09:35 -0400/blog/redirect?id=23199

If you watch enough hockey – or even just a little –
it’s not hard to pick out the good players from the ordinary ones, the clever
plays from the dumb ones, or the poor skills from the weak ones.

Most of the time it’s pretty obvious and it’s likely
the same no matter what sport you watch. Ultra slow motion replays of sports
events makes errors even more stark.

This is what analysts do: watch, break down the play,
describe what was done and every now and then offer an alternative. Except, as
the better NHL analysts frequently point out, an event that occurs in a blink
is not so easily changed.

However, while it may be fairly clear what’s gone
wrong or isn’t working, knowing how to correct a behaviour or skill is quite
another matter. Which is to say, there’s a massive difference between analysis
and coaching or teaching. In hockey, lots of people can analyze. Not many can
effectively correct errors. Problem solving, not to mention the creation of new
positive habits, is what coaching is about.

A good analyst can trace observation skills back even
further. Yes, it was a poor shot selection. However, what were the factors that
forced the player into making that selection? Was it the position of the
defender? Lack of offensive support? Did the shooter first try to evade a check
then find himself with few options? Does the shooter have poor balance when
shooting off a particular leg and tried to compensate? And of course, which of
these is correctable in practice?

At the younger age levels where errors are more
observable, coaches are tasked with both correcting the major errors and
establishing new skills the right way. It’s a tall order, especially in a volunteer-based
system where few coaches have strong technical backgrounds.

Many rely on how they were taught (if they were
taught) or on their own skills. Neither is of much help to a kid who just
cannot do a proper two-foot stop and cheats on it in every drill. What’s going
wrong? What to do to fix it? In the middle of a good drill, where executing the
technique is the objective, can the coach pick out the major technical flaws
AND offer feedback on correction?

The same holds true for tactical play. It’s patently
clear – and frustrating – when a team can’t get out of its end. The tendency is
to look at the last bad play and blame it. The challenge for minor coaches is
to figure out what led to that bad play. Then, in practice, they need to find
the appropriate fixes.

Analyze? Yes. Correct? That’s coaching.

]]>Wed, 16 Dec 2015 15:46:59 -0400/blog/redirect?id=23171

In last season’s blog, I frequently referred to my
bantam competitive team as a “gap” year squad I’d taken on to refresh my
coaching batteries.

Most of my last 15 years were with elite minor or
junior groups and I was getting a bit stale – even cynical. It was time to step
back a bit and look at the game differently.

It was a team that shouldn’t have been in a
competitive league at all. The association was just too small and the four-year
results were mostly disastrous.

This particular group, thin on talent to begin with,
had to play in a major bantam league of all second year boys. Though it was a
combined minor/major group, we went into games with half the team both outsized
and “out-skilled.” There was little hope for success.

I’d been informed of the low calibre and that the
previous year the team had been undisciplined with a whack of penalty minutes.
They were offensively challenged, defensively porous, and lacking confidence.

I suspect parents viewed my arrival with curiousity.
This might have been especially true when I said at the first parents meeting I
wasn’t afraid of parents; that they could complain any time they wanted so long
as they parked their emotions; that I took a development approach; that I
believed in and expected discipline from both kids AND parents, which meant no
moronic screaming at refs in games.

I’d love to tell you we were a Cinderella team and
pulled off a CFL Ottawa Redblacks zero to hero season. Sorry, none of that.

We finished dead last out of 13 teams. We had the
lowest goals for and one of the poorest goals against. We got to the semi-final
of one tournament (a first for this bunch). However, in the second half of the
season, earlier blowout losses became one-goal losses. We led all competitive
level teams in bantam and midget in fewest penalty minutes, averaging only 3.9
minutes per game. Their improvement was astonishing.

And it was the most fun I’d had coaching in years. They
were wonderful kids from terrific and supportive parents.

So recently, when a parent from that team came up to
me in a coffee shop, shook my hand and thanked me for the season - nine months
after it was done - I was taken aback.

He’d been on assignment for his job out of the country
and said he’d never had the chance to properly thank me for what I’d done with
the boys and his kid in particular. Another Dad recently emailed me joking I
“created a monster” in his son who is now turned on to conditioning and
improving his game. He told his father he missed my coaching.

Everyone wants to coach the top-level kids. Been
there, done that. It’s not the real hockey world though. Sometimes the purest
hockey is found elsewhere.

]]>Tue, 08 Dec 2015 12:40:42 -0400/blog/redirect?id=23105

Terry was a bruising left shooting left-winger on my
midget team. I was informed early on that his favourite play was to barrel down
the left wing and smoke one. Because of his size, few got in his way. His shot
was indeed a ripper, except it mostly missed the net wide and exited the zone.
He also wasn’t scoring.

Now you just can’t tell a 16 year old with a cannon
NOT to use it. You need to find a way to make him use it effectively. My
solution? I put him on right wing. For one thing, I’ve always liked opposite
shots on wings for offence and I’d built attacks around it. When Terry went to
the right side, he initially complained he could no longer use his shot. He
said it was awkward. Correct, I said. But try it anyway.

So he did. His technical issue of over-shooting wasn’t
remedied, but now the deficiency led to shots on the short side and on net. He
had to turn his body to make the shot which meant carrying it further.

Suddenly his shots produced rebounds and goals. In the
provincials, he was a bonafide threat. The next season, in junior, he returned
to left wing. But for my team’s purposes that year and for him to have success,
the switch worked.

This season, during a stint in junior, I got tired of
hearing my group’s shots hitting the glass. As well, we were a low-scoring team
with no natural offensive skill.

As any coach can attest, you can preach all day long,
buy somewhere along the line you need to take action. We already had a rule in
warm up shooting drills: If anyone shot crossbar height or more, the goalie
would leave the net for the next two shooters or plays. This though didn’t
solve the team’s poor shooting record in games.

Pushups did it. Ridiculous, I know. Any player who
missed the net high in practice had to do five. I added “strategic” shooting
drills. Punch the puck; hit the goalie’s pads; go short side; shoot on the ice
only, etc.

In the first practice only three kids paid the penalty.
The next game just two. They started hitting the net all the time because they
were now conscious of it – not to mention the penalty, which they viewed as
silly.

In the first game following these practice approaches,
the team missed the net just five times. The next game, it reduced to four. We
weren’t scoring more but we were getting more chances to score, even if they
were bad ones.

Defencemen were looking where they were shooting
instead of taking desperate blind slapshots. Forwards were actually trying to
get it on net. I wondered if they were afraid to be asked by the ref at the
next whistle to drop down and do five if they missed. Gradually the gap between
attempted shots and scoring chances on net narrowed while goals per game inched
up.

There was no ban on anything. Just a brief – perhaps
silly – little penalty, but hey, it worked.

]]>Tue, 01 Dec 2015 16:54:31 -0400/blog/redirect?id=23081

The coach of a competitive atom team has banned his
players from taking slap shots.

Once upon a time, way back in the 1970s, no slapshots
were permitted in Canadian minor hockey. Any player who raised his stick above
the waist on either end of a shot could get a minor penalty.

The rule lasted perhaps a couple of years then was
dropped, partly because it was so difficult for officials to call. What
happened, for instance, if a kid took a backhand and on the follow-through
raised his stick to the rafters?

When curved sticks became the norm, there was a fear
that kids’ shots were going to hurt someone because shots were often out of
control. Remember, this was long before composite sticks that torque like whips
or full-year training regimes.

The idea behind it though was interesting from a
teaching perspective. Without the slap shot, what did it force the kids to do?
Moreover, how would it change coaching? The year it came in, I was coaching
junior and the rule didn’t apply there. But I heard plenty of complaints about
it.

So now we hear of a coach who’s banned the shot for his
whole team mostly because one of his boys uses it all the time. Quite well,
too, I’m told.

He’s the team’s leading scorer with 10 goals in 11
games. No one else on the team has more than three goals. The boy’s father is
ticked. How can this coach stop my kid from using a skill he’s darned good at?

Good question. So are these:

- What's the rule’s objective?

- What constitutes a slap shot? Stick at knees, waist
or higher? What about a desperate whack at the puck?

- What's the consequence for taking one and why?

- How is it hurting this particular child's play? Is
he shooting too much? Missing the net? Not paying attention to teammates
because of the intent to take slap shots?

- Was the rule created for the team because of this
one boy’s shot?

- Is there a plan to allow slap shots sometime later
in the season? Is there a plan at all? If not, why not?

- Has the coach considered allowing it only under
certain circumstances? Why/why not?

- Was this done on the fly or communicated to all
parents and players early in the season?

In other words, I’m not entirely sure of the coach’s
intention here, though I can guess it might be to stop his ace scorer from
blasting the puck at every opportunity. Then again, is that a bad thing?

It’s here I reflect on a recent approach with the
junior team I was working with. I instituted a little rule in practice that in
fact paid off. That’s next week.

]]>Tue, 24 Nov 2015 12:12:25 -0400/blog/redirect?id=23002

Kids never get bored of what they like.

It seems so obvious. We know it’s true from everyday
activities. A game, a toy, a TV show, a song that sticks in their heads. If the
child likes it, they’ll want it again and again.

Which begs the question, what do we do with our kids
in hockey that they like? It’s an important question because it’s actually
pretty easy to find things in the game they don’t like or bore them.

This isn’t to say we must always avoid exposing
children to boring tasks. But let’s keep in mind we are talking here about a
sport, not cleaning their rooms. They need to like it. They need to feel as
though they’re getting something out of it, whether that’s success or
friendships or skill improvement or just the sensation of pure fun.

In minor hockey though coaches often provide
activities or drills, which appear to be good or useful. But to the kids, they
aren’t much fun. The difference in perspective is substantial.

With the best of intentions, coaches tend to rely on
technical-based exercises or repetitive flow drills. Yes, yes, one learns
through repetition. The late great basketball coach John Wooden said, “The
importance of repetition until automaticity cannot be overstated. Repetition is
the key to learning.”

Indeed. But can we not find activities so that when
they’re repeated, they’re still enjoyable and the kids don’t get bored?

Besides, there’s a significant difference between
wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and running shoes on a basketball court and doing
anything in the hockey environment.

In a rink, boredom is deadly. If the kids aren’t
moving, they get bored - and cold and tired and cranky. If they do the same
thing over and over again, they will tell you it’s boring. And having them go
faster is the exact opposite of what’s desired of new skills or tactics. It
delays the boredom just a tad. A few more reps at full tilt doesn’t eliminate
boredom, it merely hastens fatigue and ruins whatever technique was taught.

Kids won’t get bored of small area games or any
related low organization game (like tag) because they have competitive
components. Just don’t expect to see much application of recently taught
skills. The chasm between the first stage of skill acquisition and mastery is
wide.

They also won’t get bored when the coach tweaks drills
to make them different or more challenging. The slightest alteration, even
during a drill, such as practicing crossover turns around a dot or a partner
after going around a circle, will minimize boredom.

Do your players get bored in or of drills? What are
you doing about it?

]]>Tue, 17 Nov 2015 15:07:01 -0400/blog/redirect?id=21945

Novice, for 7-8 year olds, is the first age group
after the Initiation Program. In my area, ‘C’ is the lowest level of ability.
In other words, most of these kids have never played an organized full ice
game. Ever.

Here are 10 reasons why coaching these kids is much
more difficult than any other level or age.

10 - Skate?
How about shuffle quickly?Many at this level are either new to the game or were
new only a year ago. Skating to them means if they can get from point A to
point B without falling or stumbling, it’s a good day.

9 - You do
what with the puck?“If I could touch it just once...oops...missed...lemme
try again next time it goes by...nope, too far. Maybe next week.”

8 - Why is
the coach standing on the bench waving?Someone once thought it a fine idea for beginners to
have the same offside and icing rules as the pros. This explains the coach’s
wild gesticulations.

7 - Time for
the next, um, drill… Sort of.The coach has mined books, the web, and manuals. He’s
dug up clever little drills. Except they all involve tricky technical issues
like: changing direction; manipulating the puck; maybe even sharing it. What if
your kids can’t do any of these yet?

6 - The art
of line changes.Most leagues don’t have line changes determined by a
timed buzzer. Must have been suggested by the same person from #8. The coach
shouts for the kids to come off the ice. Some dutifully try to obey; some
don't. They waddle to the door and cause a terrific pile-up trying to squeeze
onto the bench for a rest. The rest are in la-la land and stay on for half the
period.

5 - Speaking of
lines…One kid’s dad tells him he needs to play centre.
Others are supposed to be wingers. Only two of the 11 are okay with playing
defence because it seems you do the least amount of skating there. And the
coach has to equalize icetime. Simplest solution of course is to just roll them
out one door after they come off through the other. Except the “centre” will
only play centre. Four others don’t want to play with each other because two of
them monopolized the Spiderman toys at yesterday’s birthday party.

4 - The Pre-GameAccording to tradition, the coach is supposed to say
something motivating before a game. But first, get the parents out. Then check
all the helmet attachments. And throat protectors. Has the goalie got his jock
on? Uh-oh. No more time. Forget it…

3 - Let’s talk
semanticsForecheck = Chase. Backcheck = Chase from the other
end. Headman = Whack the puck hard and hope someone from your team touches it
first. Breakout = What happens when you touch poison ivy Mom said not to touch.

2 - Getting
dressedThe kids need help with just about everything.

1 - Everything
is so big and farThe rink. The net. The benches. It’s not like that in
soccer. How come?

]]>Fri, 06 Nov 2015 14:22:16 -0400/blog/redirect?id=21871

I wanted a drill for my junior guys to work on a
couple of things at once, principally offensive timing. I found one in my
archives and tweaked it a bit to suit our needs.

As always, I’m pretty careful how I describe a drill
at a board, using language and drawings which are clear. When mapping out a
drill, I scan the team for blank looks. No matter how well I think I’ve laid it
out or how simple the drill, there are always a couple of questions. “Coach, do
you mean this?”, “Coach, do I do that?”, “Coach, can you explain again where I
go after…?”

Players have to do my drills as designed and described.
They also have to do them at a speed I determine for both to happen. There’s a
method to such madness, something players don’t necessarily see nor do I expect
them to right away.

Some kids need a second look, others need the
assurance they’re going to go about it correctly. So I address the questions
and for a handful I suggest they watch teammates for a bit instead.

This particular drill required one forward to get a
pass in the neutral zone at the boards from a defenceman while a linemate swings
behind the defenceman and up the boards to trail. The defenceman will then jump
up to join the attack from the rear. No, I’d explained to the group, this isn’t
a new regroup. You’re going behind the d-man to create better timing to receive
a back pass from the front guy so he can take back ice at the blueline and you,
the second forward, can gain the offensive zone with speed. Otherwise, you’d be
waiting and coasting.

We began the drill, which looks simpler on ice than
described here, and the first four pairs of players did it completely wrong.
The second forward did NOT do as asked. So he ended up nearly standing still
when he got the puck, which of course made his partner slow to a crawl and in
turn, made the drill useless.

I don’t know why those first players didn’t do as
asked. When I stopped the group and brought them in, I resorted to my standard
questioning technique meant to solicit a response I could fathom. I got no
response.

No one could explain why they took shortcuts and
didn’t do the drill as laid out.

And that’s when my brain’s fluorescent bulb flicked on
and the arena got instantly brighter. The wrong kids went first. Worse, I
hadn’t first demonstrated the drill or simply walked them through it.

Teaching timing is awkward because it combines
physical with mental training. Doing it fast from the get-go is invariably
going to be a mess – as this was.

Yet another coaching lesson learned about getting
players to do drills correctly.

]]>Thu, 29 Oct 2015 11:44:44 -0400/blog/redirect?id=20814

One of the nasty downsides of being in rinks so often is that I hear
or see things that leave me shaking my head.

Usually it’s an on-ice approach or series of drills for kids best suited
for the 1960s or players ten years older.

The latest one though, was a true puzzler...

Our junior team coaching staff was gathered in a dressing room about to
discuss our game plan while the boys warmed up. There are four dressing rooms
in the hallway. Adjacent to ours was one where a group of coaches was getting
changed. Their team had just gotten off the ice from practice, some of which I
watched. Sound carries in that hallway, especially when doors are ajar.

From down the hall, where the kids’ team was changing came the crystal
clear rant. One coach, presumably the head guy, was tearing into them about
effort in practice. He ripped them for not trying hard enough long enough, for
fooling around in practice, for not representing the organization better
because it was a privilege to play there...blah blah blah.

The junior staff uttered a collective “Wow!” I stepped into the hallway
on the pretense of checking the ice, but really to see who this coach was. He
stomped out of the dressing room, marched down the hall and joined his
colleagues, making a remark about how “they” (his team) had to get the message
early.

It was a team of eight year olds – though that point is only significant
for perspective.

Had they been 12 or even 14, his rant would still have been unwarranted.
One of my coaching colleagues commented about the abuse of power with little
kids. In a general sense, he was right. Lording over eight year olds is a bit
much.

I recall a Cub Scout leader my son had way back, a grown man whose own
boy was in the pack. This fellow regularly pounded back and forth launching
commands at the kids in the form of militaristic orders. My son wanted out
after four months.

I wonder what parents might have said had they been around the dressing
room when Coach X launched into his lecture. In fact, I wonder what the rest of
the coaching staff was thinking because surely they would have heard it, too.

Maybe Coach X is said to be a good coach. I can’t say. One thing is
certain: if the tirade I heard is in any way reflective of his communication
skills with little kids, he’s the one who needs some mentoring.

Failing that, he ought to consider some other form of volunteerism.

]]>Thu, 22 Oct 2015 16:27:42 -0400/blog/redirect?id=20742

Englebert Humperdinck sang, “Please release me, let me
go…”

The opening verse, to be consistent with the tryout
part of the season, should be:

“You’ve released me, let me go

For you don’t want me anymore.

To tell me why would be a sin

Release me to let me play again.”

The next two verses would detail how much the
youngster wanted to be on the team; that he’d tried so hard; that he did his
best; that his friends are there; that he went to an extra two weeks of hockey
school to get ready; and that he wishes he could start the tryout all over
again.

The clincher would come at the end, like the big
reveal at the end of a murder mystery. The kid would wonder why he had to ask
his Dad to check his email around midnight because the coach was sending
everyone the next night’s lineup and the list of who’d been cut.

He couldn’t sleep, the boy would moan. At home after
the inter squad game, he tried to do homework, but couldn’t concentrate. He
snapped at his parents. He even ignored the dog, which only wanted a back rub.

Email – The modern day cowardly equivalent to posting
a list on the wall and ducking out of sight while kids gather to see if their
names are – or aren’t – on it.

Why organizations insist on the most impersonal
approach possible continues to baffle me. In all my years of coaching at any
level, I’ve always done releases face to face. They’re uniformly difficult.

I’ve seen young men in tears, parents furious, and
released kids slam doors. But in every case, the player was offered a moment
with me to learn exactly why it happened. Yes, sometimes there were lineups
outside the door that had the ones at the end waiting a half hour. But how is
that worse than waiting for an email? At least it was immediate and personal.

Not everyone would agree with the choices, but no one
could argue they weren’t given valid reasons and an opportunity to discuss it.

The most recent instance of the email opt-out was a
team coached by a friend who was told by his association that the first
releases would be via email. However, only 25 were trying out for the team. His
first cuts numbered just four. He wanted to meet with each boy but wasn’t
permitted to do so. That night, after the inter-squad game, he sent the emails.

Whether or not releases are obvious is a moot point as
is how it’s presented. Every kid deserves a chance to hear it from the coach.

There’s no great way to release or give bad news. But
there are most definitely lots of horrible ways, the effects of which can
linger for years. We can do better.

]]>Thu, 15 Oct 2015 11:29:14 -0400/blog/redirect?id=20594

We were taking turns as goalies in our “gym” classes, which were usually on the school’s adjacent rink. A perk of attending a hotsy-totsy private school was its own artificial surface. Sheet metal roof but no walls and canvas siding unfurled to cut gale force winter winds to mere blustery ones.

The best slapshot – or at least it resembled a slapshot – belonged to Chris who was also eight years old. I was in net. One day, he stepped across the blueline and let it fly. It wasn’t far off the ice but it didn’t matter because I’d already dropped down to one knee.

Did I mention I wasn’t wearing a jockstrap?

And ever since then – my last foray in net – I’ve had enormous respect for goalies. I don’t understand them much, but I respect that it takes a certain kind of person to play the position successfully.

This explains why I also think highly of those goalie coach types, even the ones who charge big bucks to break down the position to its significant teaching points, an art unto itself. Should they be paid those dollars? I don’t know. Besides, it’s not relevant to my point, which is that proper goalie instruction is essential.

About three years ago, soon after the Bruins won the Cup, their assistant coach Geoff Ward spoke at a High Performance coaching seminar I chaired. His topic was power play. But his last slide had this as the header: The secret to great coaching = G.A.G.G. The next slide read, “Get a Great Goalie.” This followed Tim Thomas’s brilliant cameo and subsequent disappearance.

But in the normal person’s world, goalies are molded like a sculptor takes a glob of clay and shapes it into something resembling a person. A chip here, a pattern there until finally we have recognizable features.

It can take years for the transformation to take shape, another reason why I like goalie coaches. They’re the sport’s only coaches with patience. Everyone else demands immediate results. Goalie coaches know how long and hard it is to chisel a kid’s approach into a facsimile of a goalie.

Do they succeed? Mostly, yes. The measure can’t be whether the kid “makes it.” How do you define “makes it”? Midget AAA? Junior? College? How about competency in rec hockey and giving his buddies a decent chance there?

The goalie coaches I know are singularly devoted. They are analytical almost to a fault. They talk with their charges more than most coaches do with entire teams. They create and develop strong teacher-student relationships that allow kids to grow both in their positions and as individuals.

Go find one. It’s worth it.

]]>Thu, 08 Oct 2015 14:12:49 -0400/blog/redirect?id=20558

The fellow didn’t have the tattered professorial look
I can recall from my halcyon college days of another epoch. He wore an
open-collared sport shirt under a natty sport jacket and rather bounced around
the small stage. He punctuated his commentary with verbal bold and italics,
even the occasional underlined phrase when his voice rose a few notes.

He was passionate about his subject, which made sense
since the subject was having passion. A university teacher, he’d been
researching and teaching the topic, especially as it pertains to hockey. In the
case of the summer hockey coaches seminar where I heard him speak, he was
preaching to the converted.

One remark stood out though. “When you have passion,”
he said, “you look for ways to make it work.” It initially made sense, but is
it true? Do our minor hockey coaches, who all seem to be passionate about the
game and working with kids, actually seek ways to make it work. I’m not so sure
they do.

A passionate coach, to me, is someone who asks
questions and looks for better methods to provide the kids a good hockey
education. Resorting to traditional approaches simply because they’ve always
been done isn’t reflective of much except perhaps laziness to improve a
program.

This is what I regularly see and hear: “I love the
game”, coaches profess. “I like helping kids”, they add. I’ll put in those 10
hours or more a week to coach because I’m committed to making the kids better
in a game I’m passionate about. But heck, I’m coaching local recreational level
nine year olds. It’s not such a big deal. Or, I’m coaching local midget kids
who fled competitive hockey because there was just too much of everything.

Back to yours truly. So then let me clarify for my own
edification. You’re passionate about coaching and kids, yet it’s not very
important - in your view - to share that passion through exciting practices,
fun and invigorating activities, and active coaching. It’s acceptable to offer
a bare minimum of creativity. It’s just fine to have the kids go around the
five circles for the umpteenth time, purportedly to practice crossovers even
though they coast without really doing them. A practice warm-up consists of
coasting around the rink, rotating an arm or twirling a stick or attempting a
groin stretch, all while skating ONLY counter-clockwise. There’s nothing wrong
with using a drill you got from a book or web site and you just stand there
watching the kids sort of do it, like being stopped at a railway crossing and
seeing the railcars go by. And an end-of-practice scrimmage just has to be full
ice 5-on-5, right?

Are you really a passionate coach… or a passionate
fan?

]]>Thu, 01 Oct 2015 13:59:10 -0400/blog/redirect?id=20492

A friend of mine is a high school vice principal. When
he was first appointed a few years back, he told his superiors he wanted to
continue to teach a class each semester. There were a few sensible reasons for
it. He felt it kept him in touch with student needs and allowed him the same
“in the trenches” experience the teachers had. Plus, he loves teaching and didn’t
want to give it up.

He took it a step further last year when, already a
Hockey Canada coaching program facilitator, he ran a Coach level 2 course at
his school from which students also obtained a senior physical education
credit.

Clearly the fellow continues to regard himself as a
teacher first, a school administrator second. However, he’s an anomaly. I know
of no high school administrator in the board where I taught who’d done anything
like this. Likely no one was allowed to.

In the minor hockey world, for the most part, people
who sit on boards don’t coach, officiate or serve as trainers. I suppose they
could offer perfectly sensible rationales as to why: not enough time, too busy
with admin chores, etc. Indeed, the amount of administrative minutiae minor
hockey has produced can be overwhelming. But have people at the top of the
pecking order lost touch?

I’m reminded of this each time I step out with an age
group I haven’t actually coached in eons. For instance, I recently ran a hockey
practice for the lowest calibre of novice-aged kids (7-8) whose coach couldn’t
be there (he was attending a Coach 2 clinic). Aside from hockey schools, I
haven’t coached the age group since my own kids were that age many moons ago.

I’d forgotten the challenges of getting them to pay
attention or copy what I demonstrated or do the simplest activity without
falling. Herding cats would’ve been easier.

As we left the ice, with a few kids barely able to
make it to the doorway without tumbling a couple of times, I wondered how on
earth one changes lines in a game to ensure equal ice time. My junior boys hop
the boards; these kids can’t see over them.

And then my little pea brain harkened back to
situations where coaches have been taken to task by associations for so-called
“playing their best” when in fact the only thing coaches were worried about was
how to get them in and out of the doorway without a pile-up.

Maybe every association executive member ought to
spend some time on the ice or bench with these teams to remember what it was
like. Perspective counts, as does empathy.

]]>Thu, 24 Sep 2015 15:46:10 -0400/blog/redirect?id=20426

The common refrain: the one thing players understand
is removal of ice time. That may be true – in pro, in junior, perhaps even in
elite midget hockey. It is certainly not true in minor hockey as a whole.

If benching a kid is perceived to be the only way to
communicate a message, a punitive one indeed, then we’re missing the point.
Consider the example given last week of the association offering a one-shift
and/or one-game suspension. Discipline is more complex than that. Benching is
an all-or-nothing approach.

Even after proper consultation with parents and association
members, it is a last resort and one that requires graduated levels of
severity. For instance, one shift to one period, two periods to a game, a week
and so on. And all of this after every possible effort has been made to deal
with the issue.

But one of our problems in minor hockey is that the
game is not overseen by professionals, either at the board or coaching levels.
Everyone means well and has the kids’ best interests at heart. However that
often doesn’t translate to being able to deal with complex player issues which
may be rooted elsewhere, such as at home, school, or in the neighbourhood.

Yes, benching may work. I haven’t seen many situations
though where it was a long-term solution. Moreover it is not the only thing
kids understand. To assume that is to insult the intelligence and perception
skills of our youth. They know and understand more than we give them credit
for.

There are lots of things kids understand when it comes
to discipline. They know when a coach is respectful, demanding or fair. They
usually know when they’ve crossed the behaviour line. They know and understand
codes of conduct and fair play. And if you ask them, you’d be surprised at the
answers they’d give about punishment or what is just. Benching is just one small
component. And then, what if benching doesn’t work?

Coaches, and to some degree their governing
associations, haven’t done a very good job of creating a progressive discipline
approach. I’ve only seen one document where steps were actually laid out for coaches
to deal with problems. It no longer exists.

Benching is certainly an expeditious and convenient
solution. Discussions with parents and the player, examining conflict
resolutions, understanding how and why issues escalate, and offering age
appropriate solutions require much more time and effort. This is why coaching
can be challenging and having experienced individuals to mentor coaches to
address such problems is so vital.

Don’t kids deserve more than a quick fix?

]]>Thu, 17 Sep 2015 16:21:56 -0400/blog/redirect?id=20323

A minor hockey body has a curious approach to allowing
coaches to discipline their players. A coach is permitted to bench a player for
one shift if they don’t abide by the association’s fair play standards. But the
benching can only occur once in a season.

From there, the next step is a coach-imposed one-game
suspension, which can also only occur once in the season.

The association cannot be faulted for trying to stem
the tide of benchings and the like in bygone years. Coaches would play their
best players, double or even triple-shifting them, benching kids for inordinate
periods of time for the flimsiest of reasons.

In other words, winning was the goal even at the
youngest age levels. Without rules to govern how they could use kids, some
coaches abused their power and just plain sat them.

Consequently it had to create fair-play rules that
effectively put a halt to the abuse. Only in a few cases each year does one now
see even a hint of attempts to use only the best players. Coaches know they’re being
watched, as they should be.

But the benching of players had, and still has,
another prong and this is where the rule falls flat. There aren’t many tools
available to minor hockey coaches to deal with kids who present problems. More
importantly, most minor hockey coaches function in a volunteer-based system
where few have training or backgrounds in dealing with behaviour issues or
conflict management.

They see their players just a handful of hours each
week. As I often say to coaches in clinics, you’re coaching these kids, not
parenting them. Others have that role and you cannot take their place nor pick
up where they leave off. In school, teachers know that all too well, though
they spend a number of hours daily with children. Which means that when a coach is faced with a
discipline issue on a team, in that particular association, you can bench a
child one shift. Full stop. And/or bench him one game. Again, full stop.

True, both require documentation and consultation with
parents. However, there’s nothing else. This is not to say that benching is the
only recourse for consideration; it is but one form of sanction. Yet there’s no
guidance for the coach on alternatives. In fact, even to bench a player
according to its rules, the association provides virtually no guidance except
to say that the child’s actions contravened the fair play code.

How does a coach handle a child who is rude or
disruptive? What of the ones who bully or just plain won’t listen? The kid who
takes frequent retaliation penalties?

It’s the one question asked of me the most often by
coaches: What do I do with this kid…?

Next week we’ll look at some solutions.

]]>Thu, 10 Sep 2015 15:20:04 -0400/blog/redirect?id=19281

Some of the most fun I’ve had has been teaching
coaching clinics. For over 30 years, I’ve watched programs evolve and sometimes
had the good fortune to help determine the path of the evolution.

There’s always been one constant. No matter the course
content or how beautiful the PowerPoint slides are (or the overhead acetates
before them!), the ice sessions have always been a highlight.

Coaches were consistently clear: Give us all the paper
and theoretical piffle you want, but don’t deprive us of the first hand on-ice
experience.

Now it has happened at nearly every clinic that a
couple of coaches are unable to participate for health reasons. The message
remains this: on-ice is not a requirement. Just stay at the bench and I’ll talk
to the group where you are. Meanwhile, you copy down drills and notes to share
with the others. Never been a problem. In fact, coaches who couldn’t come on
the ice appreciated the empathy.

The sessions aren’t hard. They aren’t a workout nor
should they be. Coaches wear only helmets and gloves. Most are in rotten shape
and probably haven’t done a drill in eons. Demonstrating for your kids isn’t
the same as actually trying the drill. So I keep reps down to one or two just
for coaches to get a feel for the requirement.

They discover as well that directed observation of
other coaches helps clarify what a technique, drill, or tactic requires.
Besides, doing this stuff is fun. Even adults like to have fun. The noise
level, the sound of fun rises noticeably during any competitive drill.

So it was to my ever-loving shock when, at a
Development 1 clinic recently, the Sunday ice session featured just 23 of the
registered coaches on the ice - and 11 on the bench. Of those 11, a few had
been junior players not so long ago.

These are adults of course and I left them with
quizzical looks and an obvious glare of disappointment. My Saturday ice session
had just three who legitimately couldn’t skate. Two coaches had been locked out
of their equipment storage at their rink and one was awaiting knee surgery.

But the Saturday session hadn’t been any different
than a couple of hundred I’ve done before. Now suddenly, my team bailed on me.
What happened?

I carried on as before, bringing the entire group to
the bench to those who copied down the drills and teaching points. What I
wanted to say was this: Yes, it’s a long weekend and ice sessions make it
physically tougher. But you really need to be engaged in a learning environment
to truly understand what you ask of your kids.

You’re sore? Fine. Tired? Sure. But in the end, your
active participation will help you.

I wonder if they understood.

]]>Thu, 03 Sep 2015 15:47:19 -0400/blog/redirect?id=19244

A chap named Shakespeare wrote, “That which we call a
rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Don’t believe it.

In minor hockey, a name means a lot. More
specifically, the moniker we affix to a leadership position can carry enormous
weight. To wit, the difference between a coach and an instructor.

If we weren’t associated with a certain sport and I
were to ask you to describe this difference, you’d likely have a quick and
accurate response. It might be something like this: A coach has a team whereas
an instructor doesn’t and is responsible for teaching certain skills.

This makes sense. For instance, in hockey, a skating
instructor would never be confused with a team’s coach (unless they were the
same person).

In this country though, we’ve been saddled with an
oddly named certification level that really does a disservice to both its
volunteer leaders and its little participants. The Initiation Program is
basically an instructional program designed to introduce kids to the game
through discovery learning, play, exposure to basic techniques and the like.

There is nothing remotely like a team concept in it,
either philosophically or in reality. That was its original design in the 1980s
as was its precursor, the old CAHA Beginner’s Program of the 1970s.

Sadly though, the name “Initiation Program” is being
swallowed up by the monster called coaching certification, so that the leaders
who attend training sessions are now taking a clinic called Coach 1. (Coach 2
or Coach level is for recreational level teams and competitive levels below peewee).

Does the rose smell as sweet? Not at all.

When you tell people they’re attending a Coach 1
clinic, the association with an instructional program is questioned. I wouldn’t
take my six year old who can barely float to a club swim coach. I’d take him to
a swim instructor for lessons.

This is what we’re doing in hockey, or at least should
be. The problem is people do believe that having Coach 1 certification slopes
down into having a team of munchkins, teaching them some skills, but not
without also trying the occasional breakout or 2-on-1 attack. I kid you not.
This is not an anomaly.

We can’t blame it all on a name. But the connotation
of an introductory instructional program being mixed with coaching is a
mistake.

We would have been far better off, and would have kept
the Neanderthal naysayers at bay, had the current Coach 1 just been left as
Initiation Program and the Coach 2 just Coach level (or Intro to Coaching).
Tell someone they’re taking a coaching clinic and they leave believing they’re
coaching a team rather than teaching skills to a group of kids.

It smells quite differently indeed.

]]>Fri, 28 Aug 2015 12:00:31 -0400/blog/redirect?id=19121

After years of coaching and teaching the game, one
thing still leaves me stumped: how on earth do you score a child’s skill test
results?

My background and early training in university, along
with skills instruction from some terrific hockey teachers were heavily focused
on analysis and correction. You know what a skill’s components are; you see
what’s wrong; you break it down; you find ways to correct it.

This was actually easier with elite teenagers than,
say, house league kids. Elite players were motivated to do whatever it took.
House league kids not so much, plus they lacked many of the essential balance
and fundamental movement tools.

So when a local association board member took me to
task on my suggestion to replace skills tests with scrimmages, I had to resort
to skill analysis mode. The idea was that to place house league kids on teams
at certain levels one had to see them play in games. The obverse of my point,
as this chap voiced it, was that skill tests did the same thing. I’ll skip by
the fact a few people like him felt that what had always been done needn’t be
changed. However, they wanted to give scores for each child’s performance on a
test. From these scores they’d place kids on teams.

The actual tests don’t matter. My response was
something like this: Child A weaves through a pylon test quickly, loses the
puck twice, and misses a pylon. Child B goes more slowly, doesn’t lose the
puck, but never places his feet in the proper position for a tight turn. On a
scale of 1 to 5, where 5 is the best, what score do you give each and why? No
one could answer me – In fact, I couldn’t either.

What were the test criteria? Completion of the pylon
course? Puck retention? Proper execution of the turns AND puck retention?
Speed? Speed regardless of losing the puck? Not missing a pylon? Impossible to
say.

Skill tests do have a place. They allow one to
establish - with the right criteria - benchmarks for checking on skill progress
over a season. But to place kids on teams of various levels according to some
arbitrary scoring system with vague rationales makes no sense on any level.

At least with scrimmages, one can say the kids are
getting a fair chance to show what they can do – not to mention it being a
lot more fun. While giving scores for scrimmage play will always be subjective
to some degree, at least there’s a more direct link to the objective. Which is,
what can the child do in a game?

]]>Thu, 20 Aug 2015 16:13:59 -0400/blog/redirect?id=19043

A staple from my pantheon of low organization games is one called “Crazy Puck.” It’s adapted from a gymnasium game and I’ve used it with just about every age group in practices or hockey schools.

It looks chaotic - to adults. But for kids, it’s just unadulterated fun. You throw a team or large group inside a zone with many pucks. No one is allowed outside the zone. In short, the idea is for a kid to get a puck and pass it to hit another kid’s skate blade. Kids with pucks aren’t allowed to move. Kids without pucks can go anywhere. When struck, the child kneels on the spot and returns to the game when he can reach out and touch a puck with his stick. So players are constantly in and out of play.

The coaches stand at the blueline and send pucks back into the zone as they fly by. No fun for us. Unless you count as fun watching kids jump, dive, twirl, and zig-zag to escape being hit. A perfect illustration of agility skating minus the instruction.

I’ve used it in coaching clinics, too, with slight accommodations for not wearing equipment. In the two minutes we play it (longer and they’re exhausted!), the sound of coaches having fun makes it worth the price of admission. In fact, whenever I use games like this in low organization games (LOGs), or small area games, invariably coaches race to their notepads to jot them down.

They don’t need a lecture or video to tell them what will work with kids is something that’s fun. Once you’ve experienced a truly fun game or drill, you know its value. No amount of fancy drilling or technical skills dissection can replace a good game’s fun.

I fear that in our haste and exuberance to teach stuff, we forget this isn’t a school system. The nature of the hockey education we provide is quite different. True, not everything should or needs to be fun. It probably can’t be. But what minor coaches frequently leave out of their practice plans is that they should be fun to do. Challenging can be fun. So can being competitive, if properly tempered.

I ask coaches at every coaching clinic or seminar if they can recall the last time they played something that was fun. When have they participated in an activity that included laughter? More importantly, have they recently watched kids outside hockey just have fun?

]]>Thu, 13 Aug 2015 14:40:51 -0400/blog/redirect?id=19027

A
former pro hockey player writes a blog and one of his posts was about how he’d
never coach minor hockey. In fact, he only spent a handful of seasons coaching
junior then decided to run private clinics instead.

His
commentary wasn’t exactly a ringing recruiting endorsement for people wondering
if they should give coaching a try. His top ten list of reasons why he wouldn’t
coach minor included a lot of great points, all true to some degree.

His
blog page includes 75 comments on the topic. Except, there’s no way to tell if
he was referring to AAA or the lowest levels of house league/recreational.
Perhaps his own travails in elite sport as a kid and as an adult have jaded
him.

So
then, let’s say I’m running an association and we need coaches. Who doesn’t? If
I point them to this fellow’s blog, they sure as heck aren’t going to be won
over. Parents do all that? Interference? Second-guessing? Unrealistic
expectations? Why would I subject myself to any of it, even if I had
potentially decent coaching skills?

The
reality though, is that the negativity and goofiness we read about (or see)
happens with a rather small minority. And frankly, many of the issues arise
because of poor planning and communication by the coach and a decided lack of
mentoring support from associations. As in, “Thanks for coaching. Here’s your
team. See you later - when the complaints roll in.” Plus, the higher the
competitive level, the more of it there is. Indeed, for some parents, no coach
is ever the right one.

But
this is not the case everywhere nor has every coach suffered as a result. There
probably isn’t a single coach without a parent horror story. Then again, every
child has also had at least one teacher or camp counsellor who was a dud.

I
recently heard an association board member complain about how difficult it was
to find volunteer coaches, this in a house league system. As well, moaned the
complainant, they have to take this course and that course...

I
asked if they’d made any calls or sent emails. Had they gone after
midget/junior age students? Was there something positive on the web site
showing how gratifying coaching was? Did anyone know help was available,
including having certification clinics paid for?

Blank
stares to each question.

It’s
about now that the recruitment process for coaches needs to begin. I suggest we
ignore that chap’s commentary and focus on the positive impact coaches can have
on kids, given the right help is made available. There’s far more to applaud
than cringe at.

]]>Thu, 06 Aug 2015 09:19:21 -0400/blog/redirect?id=18841

Have
you ever been asked to provide a reference for someone? Could you do it in
three words?

Referrals
are a common request of teachers. In hockey, too, I’ve frequently been asked to
be a reference for coaches or those wishing to coach. But not often have I had
to provide a recommendation for a player. This isn’t the same as a scouting
report.

Like all
coaches, I’ve had scouts wonder about this kid or that. But the form I recently
filled out for a boy was an altogether different matter. A parent asked me to
complete a recommendation sheet for his son who’s applying to a private school,
one of those hockey academies that have proliferated across the country in
recent years. What I wrote isn’t germane to the topic, which is, what should a
coach say to recommend a former player?

In fact, I
wasn’t given much of a choice. The form had no space for me to write about him.
It had a list of ten “soft skill” characteristics and a sliding scale from “excellent”
to “poor” to...”do not know”. How on earth could a coach answer “do not know”
about a player’s qualities once you’ve spent an entire season with him? That
one baffled me. Yes, I do know, or at least I have a pretty good sense.

The one
question that left me thinking asked, “What are the first three words that come
to mind when you describe this applicant?” I came up with about seven. I
actually wrote them down, tried to prioritize, then alphabetize, and then
reverse alphabetize. Then I re-ordered them to reflect change in his approach
over the season versus the result when the season was over.

Not
done, I looked at the lists and wondered if any could be construed as negative.
If I’m giving a recommendation, shouldn’t it be positive, hence the word
“recommendation”? Now if I were providing a scouting report, it might be
different.

Why three?
What’s society’s insistence on three? Three’s a crowd? Three cheers?
Three contestants on Jeopardy? Three strikes and you’re out? What’s baseball
got to do with it?

Will
these three characteristics be regarded by the school as being in order of
importance? And what of the directive to come up with the words as the first
ones to come to mind? What’s wrong with the second ones that come to mind? Or
the ones that, upon some serious reflection, best describe him?

I don’t
think of players in terms of singular words or even short phrases. Kids (well,
all people) are just too complex to narrow down descriptors quite so exactly.
So, with reluctance, I returned to my list, chose three that put him in the
best light, and hit “Send.”

Hopefully,
whoever reads it either never played much baseball or rarely struck out.

]]>Thu, 30 Jul 2015 10:33:29 -0400/blog/redirect?id=18745

The
first time I saw Participaction’s road hockey video, I thought it was
brilliant. Then came the punchline - at which I laughed, punched the air, and
exclaimed, “Exactly!”

Do
you remember it? Four kids are playing road hockey in a parking lot. A black
screen slides in from the right, the kids are “virtually” pushed to the net and
their game stops while the on-screen text reads, “Screen time is taking away
play time.” The punch line at the end reads, “Participaction: Don’t visit our
web site.”

We
ought to have something like it for our minor hockey practices. Here’s my film
treatment for a 30-second spot.

Seconds
0-10: Fifteen kids are doing drills in a hockey practice. A few are standing around
awaiting their turns. Others are hopelessly lost in a drill. A couple seem to
do them well. Meanwhile three coaches carry on a steady stream of instructions.
They point here and there, zip over to some pylons to put them back in place,
demonstrate skills...You know the routine. It goes on every day. The coaches
are positive in their delivery. No one is screaming or berating. They just
don’t shut up.

Seconds
10-15: From the top of the screen (help with CGI graphics needed, please) drops
down a muzzle for each coach. Then the players are magically (more CGI - or
Pixar) removed from the drills and plopped into a cross-ice game of 3-on-3.

Seconds
15-25: With the coaches muzzled, the kids play the 3-on-3 game. The ones who
were standing before are now chasing a puck. “Lost” kids go the net for a shot.
The hotshots try to get past everyone with the puck, but there’s no room and
they lose it. A goal is scored and they all imitate the NHL guys with sticks
raised, and fist bumps.

Seconds
25-30: A graphic slides up from the bottom of the screen. It reads, “Shut up
and let them play.”

(With
this published blog, I announce I now own the copyright to the idea. Stay tuned
for the full movie. Hey, if they can make a film about SNL’s Coneheads, then
this little spot should be a slam dunk...er...empty-netter.)

There’s
a place in practice to teach, to instruct, to correct. But it isn’t all the
time nor every practice nor even for every age level. Probably the gravest
error we commit in coaching is over-coaching. We need to put more play into our
practices and just, well, shut up.

]]>Tue, 21 Jul 2015 15:52:32 -0400/blog/redirect?id=17734

“This drill
should work,” I say to myself, “and so should that”. I draw up each practice as
I’ve always done: Create a theme and a few sub-themes then rough out some
drills. Whiteboard in hand, I diagram them, erase, restart, tweak, refer to the
theme, tweak some more. About an hour later, my practice is ready. I’m
confident I’ve balanced the players’ needs with the levels with what I figure
is appropriate.

On
it goes for all 10 U18 development practices. Hey, look, I’m an experienced
guy. I know (or think I do) what kinds of approaches work or don’t. I’m
comfortable with the age group and this particular collection of players. I’m
pretty sure I’m doing the right thing. I guess I’ll know better when I see them
play the end of spring tournament.

Over
the three days, I watch four of the team’s six games. By the second one, I’m
beginning to wonder about everything I did in those practices. By the third
game, my question morphs into, “Good grief, Richard, what on earth were you
thinking?”

Every
shift, I peer intently at the boys for evidence of my training. Are they
quicker on their feet? Are they making faster and better decisions? Are they
releasing their shots earlier, on the move? Are the passes crisp, especially
the “cross-court” ones, and through seams, not players?

An
important caveat: the games were non-checking. Contact was allowed, but it
became obvious early on that a few boys developed courage in the corners they
might not have had in a full checking situation. As well, the checking rule
created some artificial situations I hadn’t accounted for in practice planning.
In attacks, the players had more space to carry the puck, so they did. This
eliminated any chance for quick shooting. Why bother when you can carry it
deeper?

You
don’t need quick feet to escape or beat someone who can’t lay a finger on you.
They got away with coasting. With no tight checking, passing seams were
unusually wide. This produced too many wussy passes because there was no
urgency to do otherwise. And with such wide spaces everywhere, they didn’t need
to think fast. Sometimes it seemed like they weren’t thinking much at all.

The
chasm between what I’d run them through in practice and game application became
wider still, because I was unable to remind them in games of certain little
things I’d shown them on the ice. Even though the team played well enough to
reach the final, I had the disturbing sensation I’d somehow let them down.

Another
lesson learned. To bridge that chasm, one has to be in the room and on the
bench. Reminder to self: don’t just be a practice development drill coach ever
again.

]]>Thu, 16 Jul 2015 12:08:49 -0400/blog/redirect?id=17710

My math is decent. But when I tried to estimate how
many practices I’ve run over my years in coaching, I failed miserably. It could
be 1500, it could be over 2000. Yes, I’ve coached a lot of teams. No matter, it’s
a large number with a significant caveat: I’ve never run a collection of
practices for a team I wasn’t coaching.

Guest coach? Yes, often. But those have been
“one-offs.” While mentoring, I’ve been asked to help with drills or run a
themed practice. However, until this spring with a U18 development team, I’d
never been “the practice coach” while someone else ran the team in games.

Coaching is built on communication and relationships.
When you’re running a team, your personality and coaching mores, so to speak,
govern your approach in practice. They may vary somewhat according to numerous
variables, however, you coach to paint an overall picture, aim for a goal and develop
your group.

Relationships with players carry over from practice to
game and vice versa. They need to see you care about their efforts in both
venues.

My role with this group was quite different and took
some getting used to. I had to establish development priorities for a group I’d
never seen and knew little about. The spring coach, who’d worked with me in the
past in a minor hockey mentorship program, trusted me enough to say, “Do what
you believe is best for them.” This meant I had to project not just to the end
of their spring league in late June when they played a final tournament, but
also to how the boys saw themselves improving leading to the August tryout
camps.

I’m not sure what might be best for them, I took a
stab at three universal skills: passing, foot speed, and shooting quickness. A
fourth, how to play in small space, would be accomplished in cross-ice, small
area games. Much as I wanted to spend time on angling skills and stick play, I
decided the best approach, given my time constraint of 10 50-minute practices,
was to incorporate them teaching into drills. A one-on-one drill where the
attacker needed to use the defenceman as a screen and shoot also became a key
stick and body position exercise for both.

I intentionally didn’t attend a single spring league
game. I spend a lot of time teaching coaches to aim for the long term, so that
occasional game application didn’t necessarily mean much. I didn’t want to be
influenced by what I saw from week to week – Eyes on the prize and all that.

The team wound up finishing in the top three of the
spring league. In the weekend tournament in June, of which I attended four of
six games, the boys reached the championship game, losing to an older, more
experienced squad.

I watched intently, focusing on which players had
improved, perhaps from my practices, and if not, what had I missed. As always
in coaching, I learned a great deal about the link between practices and games.

]]>Thu, 09 Jul 2015 11:50:24 -0400/blog/redirect?id=17680

Calgary Flames coach Bob Hartley never spent a day
coaching minor hockey. He went from working in a windshield factory in
Hawkesbury, Ontario, to coaching the community’s Junior A club, then to major
junior, the AHL and finally the NHL.

After a Stanley Cup and now a Jack Adams Award for
Coach of the Year, Bob did an astounding thing at the recent NHL awards. In his
acceptance speech, he first thanked the people who set him on this path as well
as the NHL organizations that hired him and ultimately fired him. Then he
added, “I would like to share this great award with all minor hockey coaches.
Those guys are doing an unbelievable job teaching our great sport to our kids.”

Think about that for a moment. The remarkable athletes
who win individual awards nearly always thank their families and supporters and
many do recognize those in minor hockey who helped them. But for a coach to do
it, especially one who was never in minor hockey, is a testament to a fellow
who truly recognizes and appreciates who buttered his bread. He doesn’t get to
coach these athletes unless there are legions of volunteers preparing them for
years.

The acknowledgment probably went unnoticed by most.
When you’re at the top of the mountain, does it matter how you got there? The
recognition junior coaches regularly get for honing good players into great
ones and preparing them for a life in the gilded bubble of NHL stardom is
commonplace.

But what about before then?

Believe this: at one time, Flames captain Mark
Giordano didn’t know how to skate. And when he learned to skate, he probably
couldn’t turn or pivot well. A minor hockey coach showed him how. Somewhere,
too, a minor coach gave Johnny Gaudreau a few shooting tips. That these boys
and others became NHL players couldn’t have been predicted when they were
eight. Their coaches were just doing what they do with everyone else. As a
result, the time spent in minor before the glory years of midget and junior
just dissolves into memory.

Probably many NHL coaches would agree that they owe a
certain debt to the people who first set their players on the right path. I’m
not sure how many would publicly express it as Hartley did, not in a media
scrum after a game, but after winning a major award on stage in Las Vegas.

Certainly, Hartley is a class act. Those of us who’ve
met him and spent some hockey time with the man know it. There’s no pretense
here. Bob is genuinely thankful for what he’s earned and appreciates the skill
and work ethic of his players, not to mention the nature of their roots. Now
he’s shared that belief with the world.

]]>Thu, 02 Jul 2015 10:31:09 -0400/blog/redirect?id=17660

In the movie “12 Angry Men,” one juror (Henry Fonda)
stands up to his colleagues in a murder case and declares his belief the
accused is innocent. His stance takes considerable courage.

So it was a couple of weeks ago when Hockey Alberta
stood alone to declare that minor hockey’s rules and equipment were not
appropriate for children. As reported in the Calgary Herald on June 13, the
branch announced it was going to take steps to make the game child-centred.

You can’t see me right now, but I am standing on my
swivel chair (no mean feat) and applauding. Finally - finally! - someone in
this country was brave enough to state what everyone else in any venture
involving children has known for years. There is no sport, activity,
playground, elementary school classroom, or even amusement park ride that
hasn’t adapted to the rather obvious: children are smaller, less developed, and
incapable of nearly all adult tasks. This is true everywhere - except in
Canadian hockey.

So for Hockey Alberta to take this stance is beyond
brave. It’s treasonous and heretical according to some, but 100% correct.

Canada’s hockey structure provides great autonomy to
its branches to run their programs so long as they follow Hockey Canada rules.
To digress from them requires application for an officially declared pilot
project, such as what body checking was before the current rule took effect. In
other words, Hockey Alberta is bravely standing among its peers and saying it
will forge ahead with a pilot to use smaller playing surfaces, lighter pucks
and adapted rules for children.

This isn’t anything new. USA Hockey created its
American Development Model (ADM) six years ago to address retention issues and
fun. Both have been successfully addressed through a marvelous program,
complete with top-notch videos and lesson plans that shrink the game to kid
size.

Yours truly worked in such a program in Montreal
decades ago and the Europeans have known and practiced this for years, too.
Occasionally one sees an association that takes a stab at aspects of it.

Only in Canada have we subjected children to the same
rink, puck, rules, nets, and conventions as the pros. And we wonder why kids
are running off to play soccer where none of that exists. Why? Because soccer
does it right. Soccer knows kids are kids and adults are adults.

With the doors to the bandwagon now pushed open, it
will be interesting to see who else in Canada is willing to join the Albertans
in doing what is so obviously right for children. And, like Henry Fonda, will
we eventually reach a point where the entire country gets on board?

]]>Thu, 25 Jun 2015 12:37:29 -0400/blog/redirect?id=17639

Here's the difference between two fellows at the same
junior tryout camp.

I'm on one bench doing nothing particularly useful
other than seeing that everyone behaves. They do, of course (though certainly
not because of my austere presence).

A colleague is watching the forwards while I'm rolling
the defence. In fact, the five are changing themselves. Players from this camp
will be invited to the "shortlist" camp in August, so there's a lot
at stake for many of them. They know they need to show their best stuff. But,
typical teens new to junior, many don't quite know what that means. Holding
back and playing it safe seems to be the standard approach.

After a few shifts, I see a pattern for two of the
defencemen and it isn't a good one. Now, I could just stand there, say nothing,
and let their mistakes compound and perhaps bury them. Or I could be a coach
and give them some direction, which is what I do.

James is a big boy with some agility problems, but he
has smarts. However, he's backing up almost a half zone away from attackers.
When the puck is at centre ice, he's nearly at the top of his own circles.
Loose pucks up the boards are watched. It's like he's reticent to get involved.
For a few shifts I whisper to him it's a lot more fun being involved than
waiting for the game to come to him. He's responsive. He chats with me about
it, nods, and then slowly, shift by shift, puts it into action.

He starts jumping up the boards and pinching on
floating forwards in the neutral zone. He comes back after shifts smiling at
the new successes. I ask if this is more fun. “Oh yeah,” he says.

Another kid, Charlie, is even bigger with terrific
tools. He’s fast, can handle the puck, turns well and if he hits, he’s going to
be the one standing. But he’s dangling in his own zone, passing too late,
trying to outskate every forechecker and getting caught on odd-man rushes. I
suggest he’d accomplish more by doing less. I tell him his skills are already
obvious, that he doesn’t need to showcase them every shift.

But Charlie, while politely nodding, ignores the
advice. In fact, he starts losing the puck more often and having lost the guy
he was supposed to cover, is often twirling in small circles near his net. I
wonder if perhaps Charlie just isn’t a very smart player in addition to being
rather self-absorbed.

On the last day of the camp, when names are tossed
about as assessors are wont to do, James is mentioned as having improved
considerably over the weekend. He’s worth another look in August. Charlie
though is a risk. Can he be trusted when coached? School’s out on him. Maybe
they should take a pass on him. Correct on both counts. Too bad Charlie didn’t
see it.

]]>Mon, 22 Jun 2015 11:23:20 -0400/blog/redirect?id=17599

Back to the elite U18 group I'm working with this
spring. It's been a few weeks since I apologized for going back on my stance
that I didn't believe in the value of spring hockey. I still don't, but for elite-level
teens getting the opportunity to improve their skills, I can make an exception.

It’s an interesting environment, a departure from the
routine and inherent pressures of a season. I spent this past year working with
some local bantams. A fun season, as I wrote about all winter.

However, I missed the intensity of working with
juniors and the challenges of trying to help those players reach whatever
heights they’d set for themselves. So, there’s another reason for me to be
working with the U18s – one can justify anything, I suppose.

The relationship here between the players and myself
is quite different. It took them about three practices to figure it out. As I
told them, I’m neither scouting nor choosing a team. I’m not the coach of
either the mother junior or U18 team (a new structure in

Hockey Eastern Ontario where the midget AAAs (U18) are
run by the junior A clubs). Nor do I know the boys or their backgrounds; I only
know what I see. Talking is one thing, demonstrating is another.

On the ice, I’m not cajoling. I’m not a barker, just
an implorer. I’m trying to show them ways to improve their skills; it’s a
developmental spring group by name for a reason. With full support of team
management, I’m doing nothing more than agility, puck handling, passing and
small space attack drills. Aside from the weekly 3 vs. 3 cross-ice games I have
them do, nothing is done in more than groups of two or three.

They’re starting to get the message. The guy running
the practices - me - is actually showing them ways to improve. Here’s what to
do technically to improve foot speed and here’s a drill to illustrate.

For instance, one defenceman is a particularly adept
skater and quick, but overskates sometimes. He hasn’t learned economy of
effort. That’ll come over a couple of seasons, but he believes he can
accelerate faster by literally hopping in the air from foot to foot. When I
showed him how to keep his feet close to the ice for transition and thrust,
which he did right away, he found he could be far more efficient and get less tired.
Let’s face it, I told him, hopping as you’ve been doing looks acrobatic, but
it’s awfully tiring to bounce from one leg to the other. He bought in.

This then is the fun part. From my side, I don’t have
to worry about performance or whether a tactic is evolving or working.
Form
theirs, all they need do is watch, listen, execute and repeat till
improved. Here’s another side effect: I see more smiles during
these sessions than one might usually see in practice. That tells me
something.

]]>Fri, 12 Jun 2015 14:05:03 -0400/blog/redirect?id=17581

What’s in a word? Plenty, as it turns out.

At a recent meeting, some folks were discussing how best to evaluate
kids—sort-outs, they’re called—to place them on house league teams. One
chap threw out the term “development” to be interchangeable with
“evaluation.”

He was asked, “How is evaluation development?” He couldn’t really
answer, so he tried defending development as the cornerstone of what we
do in minor hockey.

For one thing, development isn’t just the cornerstone; it’s the
entire foundation. Most of the walls, too. Furthermore, evaluation and
development are quite different, whether in hockey or anywhere else. For
instance, in Ontario’s school system these days, the very use of
assessment has been narrowed to three choices: assessment of learning,
assessment for learning and assessment as learning. Each has a different
meaning. So one could very well slide over to sport training, hockey in
this case, and state that there are similarly three types of
evaluation: evaluation of, for, and as learning. None of these links to
development per se since the very purpose of evaluation at the beginning
of a season is to create balanced teams.

Evaluation of learning? Nothing’s been taught yet. The kids are mostly on the ice for the first time.

Evaluation for learning? Using eduspeak, it would mean that these
scrimmages are tools to determine if the kids have learned anything from
previous hockey experiences. For instance, do novices coming from the
Initiation Program know where to stand on a faceoff or how to avoid
offside? From this, coaches would adjust development programs according
to what was observed. In this instance though, it’s been months since
the kids were on teams and will be another few weeks before teams are
created. There’ll be minimal evaluation for learning.

Evaluation as learning? In a school setting, kids are given tasks
that determine if and how much they’re learning. It’s sort of a
self-assessment approach. For hockey sort-out scrimmages, however, there
is no self-assessment by the children and the activity is
adult-generated and conducted. Indeed, the kids would have chosen
scrimmage, too, but the nature of a scrimmage doesn’t really allow a
child to self-assess much of anything. They just want to play.

Does development even come from evaluation, or vice versa? To some
extent, yes to both. Evaluation results will usually highlight what the
development needs are for a group. Conversely, as a coach works through
his development plan, there is an on-going evaluation of the kids needs
and progress. So the terms are linked. But certainly not the same.

]]>Thu, 04 Jun 2015 09:56:24 -0400/blog/redirect?id=17559

And so it goes that the right thing is done for someone who deserved better and finally got it.

A competitive team coach is a decent fellow. The kids like him; there
are no real issues from the parents; the team is disciplined and does
pretty much as well as it could; the season rolls along without
incident. ’Til one of his boys receives an infraction that, according to
the league rules, results in a two-game suspension.

As is his duty, according to by-laws, the coach reports said incident
to the association within the required timeframe. The coach isn’t
entirely sure if the boy is to sit one or two games, but to be safe, he
asks his association. The association tells him it’s a one-game penalty.

Thank you, says the coach, and he sits the boy for one game, and
plays him the next one. After that second game, he is swiftly notified
by the league that it was a two-game suspension. As a result the coach
is suspended for five games for using an illegal player. The coach tells
the league his own association told him it was just one game and
supplies the email to prove it.

No, no, says the league. That’s not an excuse. You’re suspended.

The parents and kids are quite upset and ask his association to
intervene. At an appeal hearing to the league, an association
representative shows up in the coach’s defence and admits to the error
being theirs, not his.

No, no, says the appeal board. The rule is clear. The suspension stands.

The coach appeals to the branch on the same grounds. No, no, says the
next appellate group. You should have known it was two games. You
remain suspended.

The coach appeals to Hockey Canada. He wins the appeal. The suspension is erased.

There’s a vitally important message in this. We have here a volunteer
who, acting in the best interests of his players, did his due diligence
and reported the infraction as required. His own governing body told
him it was one game and admitted to the error and to leading him astray.

Common sense and a duty to fairness would make one believe that an
injustice was done. Nothing would be gained by having this fellow serve a
suspension. In fact, I would argue the lesson had already been learned
by both him and his association with respect to application of rules.
The suspension is a one-size-fits-all no matter the circumstances. The
two local appellate bodies seemed unable to see past the rule and show
empathy for a coach. Where was the spirit of the rules? Is the intent to
just ensnare whoever breaks them, no matter the circumstances?

Justice won. How unfortunate it could not have been dispensed earlier.

]]>Wed, 27 May 2015 13:37:13 -0400/blog/redirect?id=17510

In defiance of my own view that spring hockey isn’t useful, here I am
on the ice these days. The group is the draft picks and protects for a
junior A club, all 15 to 18 years old. The owner asked me to put them
through a few practices as prep for their development league exhibition
games.

I don’t much care about the games. Meaningless games are, well,
meaningless. But for the practices, I took a best guess and identified
foot speed, agility, and passing skills as cores to what the team wants.
Turns out I was right. And because the boys use these practices to work
on skills, it’s actually a decent avenue for these elite athletes.

I included in each practice about eight to 10 minutes of overspeed
training. This is a program more or less created by Jack Blatherwick in
the U.S. He set out clearly defined goals and a methodology to ensure
both the technical components and physiological considerations were
prominent.

The stuff works. I’ve used it often. It essentially makes (or asks)
players do a simple skating exercise faster than they’ve felt possible,
in other words, over speed. Each rep takes no more than about 10 seconds
and they get nearly a minute between reps for recovery. Indeed,
conditioning is important because players not in good shape will
struggle mightily, never mind with the speed expectations.

The exercises include a lot of agility, change of direction, and
transition skating. It’s not really a teaching environment per se
because I’m not there to be their skating instructor. That would be for
another time and environment. I’m to ensure they adhere to the main
tenet of overspeed training and get their feet moving.

In the first practice, they did five reps apiece of short and simple
turn exercise. A few fell on the turns because they really were trying
to go beyond their limits. But I stopped them at five because I sensed a
bit of a slowdown by the fifth rep. In the next practice, using a
slightly longer skating route, they got to six reps. By the fifth, some
of the boys were kneeling or bent over. I pushed them to do a sixth to
see if they could manage it. They did, though barely.

In the room after, I asked, as I usually do, what they thought of the
practice. They liked this one better, they said, especially the
overspeed. Why? They said they felt their foot speed improving more this
time than before. I didn’t add that, yes, mostly because they’re in
better shape and more familiar with the nature of overspeed training.

Next up is to try these with pucks. And with that will come the mental discipline to stop and get a puck they’ve lost.

]]>Thu, 21 May 2015 14:01:00 -0400/blog/redirect?id=17471

For the most part, coaches coach what they know. To expect more is perhaps a bit delusional.

Why? In this country, minor hockey coaching is largely a volunteer
activity at all but the elite levels. Mostly, you get what you get and
not often what you want. Sometimes associations have to cajole people
into coaching. With more competitive teams, there’s the exercise of
coach interviews and the like, but usually the list of candidates is
relatively short.

So then someone chooses to coach (or apply to coach) a team bringing
along a fairly minimal coaching resumé. The intentions are great, which
is why Canada is the envy of the world in terms of volunteer
involvement. But you need more than just good intentions to dance at
this party.

Like kids? Check. Love the game? Check. Want to be involved? Check. Belief in having something, whatever it is, to offer? Check.

Know how to run drills? Create drills? Communicate? Deal with
parents? Run a bench? Manage a dressing room? Address technical issues?
Correct a team flaw? Or an individual’s?

It’s not a knock on our coaches. It’s the reality. The coach who
comes with a strong playing background also drags along a narrow version
of what worked (or maybe it didn’t) at that time in that situation for
him/her. True, there are lots of cool drills that can be mined again.
However, coaching is not and has never been about using cool drills.
It’s about teaching. Drills are but one tool. Coaches from high level
playing careers find this out pretty quickly. They’re just another
volunteer trying to get the most out of a bunch of kids. No one cares
anymore where they played, except for parents who love to hear the
stories.

In some ways, coaches with minimal playing backgrounds don’t have
much in the way of preconceived notions of how the game should be taught
or played. They’re fresher and more open-minded. The ex-player has
experienced a certain approach from former coaches; the not-so-much
ex-player is limited that way but tends to want to try a more
experiential approach to coaching, unencumbered by memory. Both know the
game, though from differing points of view. Neither background is
better than the other, yet both require guidance.

In last week’s blog, I cited three examples of actual coaches and
their hockey backgrounds. Each has brought to their teams varied skill
sets in communication and sport. More importantly though, each learned
to build upon those inherent skills because they discovered pretty soon
that they didn’t know what they didn’t know.

]]>Thu, 14 May 2015 13:32:18 -0400/blog/redirect?id=16470

Do our coaches coach as they themselves were coached?

For the most part, yes, and this isn't necessarily a good thing. Let's look at three examples.

Coach Gary was an elite player who went from minor to college hockey
and finally a stint in minor pro hockey. We forget that the vast
majority of so-called elite kids go this route. They never even come
close to "the show." Not that having your education paid for and
experiencing the world of pro sports isn't healthy or enriching. It's
both in a multitude of ways. His first coaching job, with no training at
all, was with elite midget age kids.

His clearest recollections of drills and approaches are from his
junior and college days. One coach was ordinary, a couple of others
barely that. He got somewhere sort of in spite of them. Now as a coach,
he finds he needs to really think about his own approach so as not to
resort to what was done with him, which was mostly uninspiring. But
without role models or mentors, he admits using many of the same drills
and teaching techniques he saw. For instance, he starts every rep of
every drill with the whistle, an old style technique that limits player
decision-making and makes the coach focus on a drill's start rather than
what the players do in it.

There's Coach Paul who played a little competitive hockey as a kid
then intramural in university. He has a good eye for teaching the game
and relates well to kids. He's a pretty good coach by any
measure—creative, investigative, innovative. But without higher level
playing chops, he's not regarded as a serious contender for elite teams
because he didn't experience the level himself. Yet his teams have
always done quite well. He searches for newer and better ways to deal
with players, challenging them to work towards a level he himself
couldn't attain. He works hard at coaching because he knows he has no
alternative. To draw the best from his players means exploring every
avenue open to him, and some that aren't.

Coach Al got roped into the position because no one would take the
team. He played a little as a youngster but not much. His skills are
poor. He watches team practices at various levels then steals drills
which look fine when others do them but are horrible when his team tries
them. He has no means of comparison and no standards to aim for, let
alone no help. In a way he envies people like Coach Gary who at least
had something to draw from. On the other hand, he’s thankful not to be
influenced by how it was done in a bygone era. But where to get guidance
on all this?

Next week, I’ll look at the pros and cons of coaching in these scenarios.

]]>Thu, 07 May 2015 13:44:50 -0400/blog/redirect?id=16460

“I don’t understand.”

In three words, a good friend and former coaching colleague would
summarize his bafflement at why hockey players do/don’t do certain
things. Sometimes he’d say it in the middle of the action, sometimes
between periods. As in, what am I not getting about the player not
getting it?

I’ve come to borrow his line because, in minor hockey anyway, some
things just leave me scratching my head. To wit, this one wee tangential
note about what is otherwise an excellent program.

Hockey Canada has just released its national goalie coach program.
It’s a series of levels of clinics designed to train goalie coaches
across the country in a standard approach to teaching fundamental
goaltending skills. Fine idea and a long time coming. I had my first
look at the content recently when we hosted the clinic in my area.

There was a brief bit about breakaways. The line in the resource
manual says, “At the younger age group (Atom and below), many scoring
chances come from breakaway situations. Goalies must have a routine to
face this situation.”

This is true; there are lots of breakaways in the younger ages.
Teaching goalies how to deal with them is laudable, I suppose. Except
that’s not the problem. In sport, coaches know they need to trace a
problem to its source then fix the source. The power play may not be set
up right because the zone entry was poor, because neutral zone support
didn’t exist, because the breakout was awful—you get the picture.

Breakaways happen a lot in the 6-10 year ages because there’s always a
kid or two who can skate by everyone in a straight line and scoot the
length of the rink untouched. That’s the problem. They have the
length of the rink to do it. Whether or not seven-year-old goalies
really need to learn breakaway techniques is another subject. The fact
remains, breakaways happen because the size of the rink allows it. This
is where I scream from a mountaintop (a low one, I might add), “I DON’T
UNDERSTAND!”

Let’s look at this from another angle. If those little urchins were
playing on a smaller surface, would there be as many breakaways? By
smaller, I mean length and width.

If their game space was reduced such that the need to turn, stop, go,
and transition was far more necessary than straightaway speed… If in
this smaller space the little speed demons had to be able to handle the
puck rather than just plunk it ahead… If they played fewer aside to
allow marginal and weaker kids to get to the puck they’d otherwise never
touch…

It’s called 3 vs. 3 cross ice hockey and it’s happening throughout
the U.S.A. But it does not exist in Canada and probably never will.

I’m still up here...“I DON’T UNDERSTAND!”

]]>Thu, 30 Apr 2015 10:31:28 -0400/blog/redirect?id=16444

A lovely thing about the off season, apart from it being a lot
warmer, is that I can meander onto peripheral topics. This is also the
beauty of a blog. No pretence about journalistic objectivity here. One
reads a blog, like a newspaper column, to get an opinion, disagreeable
or otherwise. Every now and then I read someone’s published comments and
feel a guttural urge to scream nasty words. Then I realize this was
exactly the idea.

With that in mind, how long should a child feel shame? (to borrow a line from “Slapshot”)

A couple of months ago, a minor hockey association board member told
me there was a committee looking into reducing penalty minute times for
midget house league (recreational) hockey. I wanted to hug the guy.
Finally! Common sense gains the upper hand, er, glove!

In our area, these midget kids play 32 minute games, 10-10-12 minute
periods stopped time, and games need to be completed within a 50-minute
ice block. So they’re investigating the reduction of minors to perhaps
one minute or 90 seconds with similar reductions for majors and
misconducts. To do so, however, requires an official pilot program and
permission from Hockey Canada. One can toughen Hockey Canada rules but
cannot lighten them without expressed permission, such as with a pilot
project.

But why stop with midget hockey, I wondered? Most kids, even at
competitive levels, play less than 60 minutes stopped time. Most are
around 45 to 50 minutes. In novice and atom, ages seven to 10, games are
as long as those midgets. That doesn’t make a lot of sense either, but
it isn’t the point.

Where does it make sense that a child playing as little as 55% of a
pro game have the same penalty minute lengths as the pros? In fact, why
isn’t there a separate set of rules for the young kids?

Example: The eight-year-old breaks his stick. He carries the broken
shaft to the bench and hands it to the trainer. (Why? Because Dad said
he can get a refund from the store, so, son, bring it back to me.) He
could be given a minor for playing with a broken stick. Or he could be
given a misconduct (Rule 9.8d) for “tossing” the stick out of the
playing area. Technically, yes, he sort of did both. Are such draconian
penalties necessary? Wouldn’t it have been sufficient to whistle down
the play and just have the faceoff in the offending kid’s zone? Message
sent. Why should the kid AND the team suffer?

Example: Three stick infractions leads to a game ejection. So little
Billy gets three harmless hooking penalties because he’s a lousy skater
and can’t catch anyone. Off he goes. What was gained from this?

It’s time for Hockey Canada to stride forward and fix it. Anyone want to be the champion of the cause?

]]>Thu, 23 Apr 2015 14:18:36 -0400/blog/redirect?id=16392

The opposition scores with less than two seconds to go to force
overtime in a medal game. The play was an errant pass that bounced off
your backchecker’s skate. One of your key players gets a highly
questionable penalty at a key moment - then the other team scores on the
powerplay. Your best forward and only scoring threat is tossed from the
game for a check from behind. The team’s goalie has been outstanding,
keeping you in the game. 'Til a lob from over the blueline bounces off
his head onto the ice behind him and trickles over the goalline. Or how
about when you play a team that’s far bigger and plays aggressively to
the edge of being just plain dirty. They consistently run over your
small players and pretty much have their way with the puck in your zone.

What to say?

It doesn’t matter the level or age group. Every coach has been faced
with the conundrum created by such disasters. The Hobson’s choice list
of potential wrongs is nearly endless.

Say something? Sure. But why? What will it add to the narrative
already unfolding? How can you restate the obvious and make it
meaningful? Okay, don’t restate what’s happened. What about just
describing what could have been done to prevent it? No, that’s likely to
make the players feel worse. They already know what disaster looks and
feels like.

You could make light of it. “Well, that didn’t go so well, did
it?” But being flippant about a game event the players perceive as being
negative gives them the wrong idea about you. Does the coach care?
Doesn’t he get it? So no, scrap that thought.

Ignore the event? Not really because you can’t act as if it didn’t happen.

One coaching friend recently had his team’s shot at a provincial
final blow up with 1.76 seconds to play on an entirely fluke goal. After
the period, before overtime (which they lost), he chose to peripherally
refer to the event in a holistic way. He gathered the boys and reminded
them that they’d been faced with similar situations all year and came
back. It was obvious to him that the heartbreak of the goal could not be
erased. Likely, they’ll remember it forever. So he needed to mitigate
the pain by going in a slightly different direction.

Hockey is essentially a collection of such coaching moments
linked by the game’s action. The tricky balance is always to figure out
how to use these moments in not just the right way but also at the right
time. Such is the art of coaching.

]]>Thu, 16 Apr 2015 15:12:47 -0400/blog/redirect?id=16382

During my teaching career, I often heard colleagues claim there was
no such thing as a bad or dumb question. I never agreed. While you'd
never let on to a student, some questions begged a double take or
pregnant pause. So it goes with coaches who regularly fire me questions.
The vast majority are legit. But occasionally I answer with my own.

The technique reminds me of a school principal I knew who, when
confronted with a staff member who'd done something questionable, would
lean forward and ask, "Why would you do (or say) that?" Very
off-putting.

Questions or comments meant to elicit a rise out of me are the real
posers. Such as, anything about officiating. Most recently, at a seminar
about defensive play, a coach asked me how best to communicate with a
referee who refused to come to the bench to explain calls. The coach
said he was miffed by a few calls and kept gesturing and asking for the
referee to explain. He stayed away.

I had two questions of my own:

1. What team do you have?

2. What's the answer to #1?

"Atom house B," he said. (In our area, house league is recreational
hockey with three levels, A being the best, C being the weakest.)

"Why," I replied, "are you even bothering with that?"

Not what he wanted to hear. Then he tried to justify it by fumbling
around an explanation of the importance of the calls, the score, and
even how he was trying to show his 10-year-olds how to talk with refs.
He could see I wasn't buying it. I wasn't about to embarrass the guy,
but I could tell from the looks on the faces of the other coaches they
weren't buying it either.

"Is the score important?" I began. "Are the infrequent penalties in a house league game significant? If so, why?"

I really wanted to launch into a lecture. Very badly. I sensed a few
in the room wouldn't have minded it either. Instead I left the questions
hanging in the air for a few moments before he replied, meekly, “So I
shouldn’t ask the referee?”

No, I said, the calls aren’t important. You’re simply distracting you
and probably the kids. Use the penalty calls as teachable moments to
the team on how to position oneself or stick check legally, etc.
Besides, even if it was okay to talk to the official, consider your
tone, body language, situation, all from the official’s perspective.

As minor coaches, we need to stop following the leads of junior or
pro people for whom a lot rides on a result. In the real world, why
would you do/say anything?

]]>Thu, 09 Apr 2015 11:46:05 -0400/blog/redirect?id=16368

I’d been forewarned this bantam team was weak, that it was being
thrust into a league of major bantams while having only half a team at
that age. Five of the boys were returnees from a team with a penchant
for poor discipline and bad penalties.

So, fix the discipline. I suppose it was a healthy mix of my more
serious demeanour in practice and the room along with a certain
credibility in the community. Teach the kids to control their emotions.
Focus on the task of getting or protecting the puck. Whereas I didn’t
spend enough time on a few key skating skills (see last week’s blog),
I felt I needed to address the checking issue which would allow the
kids to compete better, have more confidence, and minimize the
penalties.

It worked. A few remained afraid till the end. But I think that
process would take a couple of years, if ever. Our penalty minutes
plummeted immediately. By the end of the season, we’d average under four
minutes per game, less than half of any team in our league. We had four
penalty-free games, no misconducts, only one minor for yakking at a ref
and just two check from behind infractions. This in 50 games. The boys
responded to the discipline and took pride in the achievement.

The group’s offence in previous seasons was awful. A large part of it
was just plain shooting skill, something I noticed early in the
tryouts. So in the preseason practices and for the first month after the
season started, I had them take 50 shots per practice at the boards.
Sometimes as a 50-shot warmup. Sometimes taking 10 shots in every break
between drills. The coaches (me and two assistants) would give technical
feedback. It took the boys ’til December to finally start scoring. Our
goals for average went from under 1 in the first couple of months to
over 2 by the end of the season. We scored 4 against the league
powerhouse, a feat only accomplished by two other teams. More kids on
the team scored more goals than they ever had.

The limited practice time and crammed schedule forced me to
prioritize. It’s still a team sport and the kids didn’t know how to help
each other in the defensive zone. In the first two months, our goalies
were shelled. We were being outshot by 3 or 4 to one and the vast
majority of shots were first class chances. The boys needed to be shown
how to sag; how to help the defence; how to clear pucks; how to get
netside/inside. I used reduced space in-fighting drills and small area
games every practice. In January and February, we slashed our goals and
shots against. The goalies were seeing more pucks and were able to cover
up on scrambles because they were getting help. It became more a rarity
to see a boy out of position.

These successes weren’t terribly obvious. While parents and observers
did comment on the team’s terrific improvement, I’m not sure many could
recognize the exact reasons why.

I was pretty proud of how the kids responded. We finished last, with a
record of 5-20-5. I sure hope that’s not just what they remember.

]]>Thu, 02 Apr 2015 13:49:27 -0400/blog/redirect?id=16254

What didn’t I do with my bantams this year? What didn’t I follow up on? What more should I have done? Or less, for that matter?

Turning. Most of these kids could not turn both ways, either by
crossover or sharp turns. Even on their good sides, they were
inefficient. I recognized it early on yet figured that by combining
turning skills with basic individual tactics, I could mostly lick the
problem. Wrong. To properly correct a skill deficiency, you need to
focus on just it alone. I knew that after years teaching skating. But
with a team, time was tight. Shortcuts were in order. Consequently we
had trouble retrieving pucks, transitioning, breaking out, and pulling
away from defenders. All because of turns.

Conditioning. However one defines “in shape,” the kids weren’t
really in shape to begin the season. So the too-frequent ice times often
did more harm than good. They were exhausted. I’d promised to bring in a
well-respected and well-known colleague to show them how to get in
shape and stay there, but schedules conflicted and we just plain ran out
of time. I feel I failed the kids by not following up.

Every coach has weaknesses. One of mine has always been team
bonding exercises. In the past, I relied on other members of my coaching
staff. I always felt these things were a bit artificial, as if you
could manufacture chemistry in a room. I did try a couple of things at
away tournaments. But as it turned out, the kids all got along anyway. I
was given ideas by coaching friends and considered using them, though I
never did. Still, I wonder if the team would have gelled on the ice
better and sooner had I done more.

I was warned in August about the group’s skill and previous
record. No one mentioned a compete level that was nearly non-existent
for many of them. It often appeared that what I was doing was way over
their heads. I knew it, too. What I didn’t do was talk more often to
individuals. Perhaps I was afraid to hear I was pushing too much. One
boy did tell his parents the practices were hard. Well, yes, they were
challenging. Aren’t you supposed to be challenged in competitive hockey?
Some kids in this group just didn’t want that, even right to the end. I
chose to pay it less heed than perhaps I should have.

I didn’t talk enough. Around December, I got feedback from my
assistants (through their sons on the team) that the kids wanted to hear
more from me after games. I wasn’t used to that, having come from
junior where the less said after a game the better in most cases. So I
had to alter my approach and come into the room after every game and
give positive directed feedback. It took three months for me to receive
that advice because I hadn’t really stepped back and tried to understand
what 13- and 14-year-olds needed to hear and why.

Upon reflection, I sure would have done some things differently.
Then again, as I’ll show next week, it was mostly a good season.

]]>Thu, 26 Mar 2015 14:02:47 -0400/blog/redirect?id=16138

It was the coaching equivalent of the parent-teacher interview. After
the season ended, I conducted coach-player exit interviews, something I
hadn't done in a while. I don't know if many coaches do this, not that
it matters. I've always felt that when a competitive team's season ends,
the coach owes it to the players to provide them some feedback on their
progress. As well, it affords the players a last opportunity to ask
questions or comment on the season.

None of these kids had ever experienced anything like this
before, nor did I expect they would have. Bantams, at age 13-14, are
pretty much at the entry point for being able to understand the nature
of the feedback and perhaps do something with it.

The process was this. My two assistants and I met for about 15
minutes with each boy and an invited parent at our home arena. I thought
it important for parents to listen in. After all, they do have a vested
interest and needed to hear what we were to say. If their sons are
going to continue in competitive hockey, they need to hear our views on
what to improve.

We gave each player the team's statistical summary along with an
eleven-category chart on which the coaches rated the kids on a score of 1
to 3, with 3 being the highest. We made sure they knew the ratings were
our opinions and that the evaluations were relative to our team, not
the league. I selected the categories carefully, trying to pinpoint the
key physical, tactical and soft skills needed to play at this level. The
categories were: agility, speed, transition skating, puckhandling,
passing, shooting, defensive play, offensive play, effort, self-control,
Improvement.

The assistants began the debriefs with a few words before my
comments. It was so important the kids hear positive commentary,
especially after a losing season. Far too often, actually regularly,
people equate a team’s success with its record. To my mind, our season
had been a rousing success - with a record of 5-20-5 and 9-8-1 in
tournaments. The kids had learned to compete and in the last couple of
months were in every game, despite being from a small association and
having a minor/major mix in a league of all major age players.

As to my assistants, this was also a new experience. For one
thing, they got a feel for what parent-teacher interviews are like.
Sitting face to face with a boy and parent giving feedback isn’t easy.
For another, they learned that good communication is at the heart of
coaching, even when the season is over.

Some kids didn’t show up. One was sick and the parent hasn’t yet
rescheduled. Another, not a word. One goalie dad said his son would
receive ample feedback from his goalie camp instructor in the summer. I
couldn’t have agreed less. He doesn’t get it, but it wasn’t worth the
fight.

And selfishly, the exits gave me one last opportunity to thank those boys for the wonderful season they’d given me.

]]>Thu, 19 Mar 2015 09:28:53 -0400/blog/redirect?id=15975

A minor hockey team playing in a so-called competitive level league doesn’t need to win. No one needs
to win. The ego and self-esteem may be bruised for a while. You don’t
get the opportunity to brag and it doesn’t go on a resumé. The sun does
rise the next morning though and everyone realizes it was indeed just a
game.

However, there is nothing inherently wrong with learning what it
takes to win and then, having done so, trying to revisit what worked.
Early on with my bantams, I realized they had little of those tools. As I
mentioned in last week’s blog, the willingness to simply compete had to
be drawn from them. Even then, some resisted; some managed it from time
to time; some couldn’t handle what I suppose they felt was a push to
succeed; and some revelled in it but just couldn’t figure out how to do
it consistently. There was over-reliance on my leadership and despite my
efforts to get some of the older, more respected boys on the team to
set a tone, they just didn’t know how.

Essentially, it seemed as though no one in previous years had shown
them how to play their best. Winning was never the idea. This was
neither a team nor an organization where winning would occur much
anyway, which is beside the point. Moreover, the skill level for this
group was poor and, I was told, always had been. So I found myself with
two avenues to take.

1 - Spend practice time on little else but technical skill building.
The danger with this is that, on a competitive level team of new
teenagers, the approach might be construed as somewhat demeaning. Wasn’t
this the kind of stuff they should have been taught in novice and atom?
I risked losing them. Besides, how much appreciable improvement could I
expect in a season of about 30 practices? Would the skill-based
approach aid their compete level?

2 - Show them how to compete using small area games. Work on
giving/receiving checking skills. Focus on self-discipline. Make the
skill development more experiential learning than drill-based. But - BUT
- to what end? If they’re still not good enough to be competitive in
games, how would this help? Then there’s the issue of sacrificing
technique at just about the perfect time in their lives when they can
learn and apply it?

I chose #2. Winning was never my own objective. Giving them
confidence and teaching them how to find the ingredients to win were
more important, and practical.

In the end, we lost our last game 4-1. It was a dud of an effort, the
only one like that since December. In every other game, they competed,
or at least most did. Their reward was close games where they’d been
waxed before and success in a couple of tournaments where there’d been
none. They even gave themselves a chance for playoff success.

No, this team didn’t win much. But I hope they left the season with
at least an inkling of what it takes, even if they can’t often reach
it.

]]>Thu, 12 Mar 2015 13:38:11 -0400/blog/redirect?id=15966

Done. Over. Finished. In the end, our season ran headlong into a bit of a wall: us.

First some important background information. The competitive bantam
team I took on was a combination of minor (7) and major (10) age players
in a league comprised entirely of major players. Why that even was
allowed to happen is another matter. At an age, 13-14, where the growth
and maturational gaps are vary wildly, the kids were flung into physical
situations a great many were ill-suited for. Some played fearful most
games.

Historically, the group had done poorly in every category: goals
scored and allowed, penalty minutes, wins, losses. Moreover, it’s in a
small association of 400 kids up against behemoths of 2,000 or more. The
association further handcuffed the selection process by declaring that,
to ensure sufficient local representation, 13 of the 15 selected
skaters and at least one of the goalies had to be from the host
association.

So from the outset, the odds of this group experiencing much success
were next to impossible. But there was another, more subtle issue and it
had little to do with their already challenged skill level. They just
didn’t know how to win.

Leads were squandered. Comebacks faltered. They’d hang tough with a
good team, then flounder and flop when that team’s skill overcame ours,
resulting in an almost inevitable downturn. They’d compete for the puck
to a certain point (some kids wouldn’t at all) until it became clear
they’d not come out with it, and so go through the motions. A few were
second or third on the puck nearly all the time. Size was a factor as
were age, strength and skill.

And when the coach, yours truly, gradually increased expectations to
compete better, the response was inconsistent. Some tried to rise to the
occasion, hampered mostly by skill deficiencies. A few had to be
dragged along by more eager and braver teammates.

They revelled in their few wins but didn’t know what created the
success. The adage that good teams find a way to win only came into play
a handful of times.

All of which meant the kids needed to learn how and when to turn up
the heat; how to play at a consistently high level; how to squeeze the
most out of themselves as possible; how to synthesize instruction and
then apply it in so-called big games. They knew nothing of these things.

But this is not to say the season wasn’t a success. It was. They
scored more, allowed less and were vastly more disciplined than ever
before. Of the 57 teams in four bantam and midget leagues, only one
other team had fewer penalty minutes than us. And ours were half of
everyone else’s. Games were closer, shifts harder, shots more frequent.
Their improvement was remarkable. If only they knew what it took to win…

]]>Mon, 09 Mar 2015 10:13:17 -0400/blog/redirect?id=14942

A coach I know used to bemoan his minimal postsecondary education. He
genuinely felt almost intellectually inadequate in comparison with
those coaches who actually believed their degrees meant a greater innate
ability and higher coaching intelligence quotient.

Except the fellow was (remains) a singularly outstanding minor
hockey coach who had the respect of all his players and their parents,
not to mention other coaches, with some major championships to show for
it. How sad that so many equated a university degree with coaching
competence. I’ve never drawn a straight line between coaching skills and
either playing experience or degrees. Nor have I seen a tendency that
reflects how one or the other makes someone a more complete minor hockey
coach. Which brings me to coaching assessments.

These days, I'm involved in the marking of High Performance
coaching exams. About 80% of those who attended the seminar have
completed their homework (20% have chosen not to hand in anything as
yet). What we nine assessors have noticed is that neither a coach's
profession nor education guarantees quality work. To be sure, the High
Performance 1 written assignment is a demanding one, as is the field
evaluation which follows. It should be. Those coaching our elite
athletes should themselves be elite coaches with a hunger for
self-improvement and an ability to both synthesize content and apply it
to their athletes.

What we’re seeing is a trend that separates elite coaches from
coaches of elite teams. The ones who’ve aced the assignment cross all
stratas of education and work histories. They may not be able to write
lovely prose in dissecting an inspirational book on coaching. But
they’re able to properly connect the messages from readings to their own
situations.

The same goes for the approach to creating yearly plans or
practices around a topic like offensive team play principles. Indeed, an
elite coach needs to be able to draw upon other sources, like drill
books and the like. But more importantly, he/she has to know how to
adapt and apply the information to the particular coaching situation.
We’ve seen coaches - with rather hefty academic pedigrees - provide
photocopies from manuals or clinics and then state these would be their
practice plans. This even though the plans were for older, more
experienced, even national level athletes. Would they have attempted
this in university? So we’ve sent a few back to the drawing board,
asking for original work that’s pertinent to their situation.

Others just don’t answer the question. For instance, some - again
with degrees! - have answered one about mental training by stating they
invite in an expert and leave it to them. That’s it, we wonder? Don’t
they want to know what the expert is doing or saying? Don’t they need to
follow up? Again, would they have taken such an approach for a
postsecondary paper?

It’s been a bit surprising and even disappointing. In this sport, our
so-called elite coaches still have a ways to go, no matter their
personal education.

]]>Thu, 26 Feb 2015 14:57:43 -0400/blog/redirect?id=14896

There are certain disadvantages to being in rinks as much as I am. I
could grind down my teeth or get a crook in the neck from shaking it so
often. My eyeballs might get sore from constant rolling. Pursed lips
could become permanent, couldn’t they? (Or so my Mom used to say about
my ears if I pulled on them too much to make faces at friends.) Then
there’s the blood pressure. Don’t even ask me about that.

All from watching the odd and often dumb things people are doing in
practice. Yes, yes, I know, it’s all purely anecdotal. And I’ve even
said myself that you can’t tell if a coach runs a truly good practice by
using just one as an indicator. But… BUT… you can most definitely tell
when coaches don’t get it. To wit, the one I recently witnessed before
my own practice. It was, I think, a skill test practice. I say I think
because coaches stood on the ice with stopwatches and clipboards while
the little kids mostly stood around awaiting their turns. In other
words, a complete and utter waste of ice.

Ten kids on the ice. Ten. So few with so much space it was easy to
count. They were novices, 7-8 years old. No goalies. So that was a dead
giveaway. Obviously you can’t have a proper practice without goalies. I
suppose they were told to stay home because the speed test and pylon
weave puckhandling test were just not for them.

The ice was pristine enough for me to ask the rink attendants not to
bother flooding so my team could get the extra time. I guess it didn’t
dawn on the novice timekeepers to ask for the same thing so their boys
could squeeze in 10 minutes of something fun.

For the speed test, they kids had to spring from goal line to the far
blue. The pylon weave involved going through four with a puck then
spring back to a blueline. The kids tried really hard, as kids are wont
to do in most circumstances. Except they had a few technical
deficiencies. Like lousy strides, errant sticks, inability to do turns
with our without a puck, weak stopping skills… and so on. Because it was
a speed test, the pylon weave was the most entertaining in a sad sort
of way. The poor boys tried ever so hard to get through them fast but
kept losing the puck or took wide awkward turns with feet splayed away
from the body.

Meanwhile, the coaches timed them. I don’t know what they were timing
them for, nor do I care. But it was pretty clear the kids skills were
quite poor. Could they go faster on subsequent tries? Maybe. But it made
about as much sense as their grade 3 teacher asking them to write a
paragraph as fast as they can and never mind spelling, punctuation,
structure or theme.

I wanted to scream, “WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING !?” But on top of the other ailments, it would’ve hurt my throat.

]]>Thu, 19 Feb 2015 11:46:36 -0400/blog/redirect?id=14873

It was one of the last practices before playoffs since ice is hard to
come by these days in my area. Then, in the world where nothing falls
into place as you’d like, one goalie couldn’t make it nor a defenceman,
the one with a penchant for laziness when not having the puck.

The plan was to have just three drills, focus on execution and speed,
tighten up some bits of our defencemen’s play and finish with a rousing
small area game of 3 vs 3. High tempo, flow, and mostly get the heads
in it.

Right away, the two 1-on-1 drills went flat. Having just one goalie
didn’t help. But my choice of full ice drills with the dee working on
passes to wings and following forwards before transitioning to defend
didn’t work. It was a matter of the kids’ skill level and speed over a
large space, the full rink. They weren’t fast enough nor technically
sharp enough to make quick passes and cover the space in the time frame
needed for the drill to hum.

Some aspects worked. The forwards got a handle on how to pick up
rimmed passes and finally understood the importance of getting wide to
accept passes while looking inward. Meanwhile, the defencemen’s
transition skating was better. Still, each play took too long. They
weren’t used to flow drills where you had to stay mentally sharp to keep
it going. I hadn’t done many over the year for these very reasons. I
figured though that by now, after nearly six months, they’d be better.
Well, yes, they were better, but the sheer size of the space to cover
and maintain speed or accelerate was a bit much.

It’s interesting, in an instructive way, that while they play the
game on a full sheet, a drill that uses the entire length and much of
the width just doesn’t work well. There was far too much time where
players did nothing constructive but skate the length of the rink. For a
coach who puts so much emphasis on agility and puck skills and not
wasting space, I was surprised at myself for coming up with this one.
Even worse, I didn’t fix it mid stream as I could have.

The kids didn’t seem to know what to do with themselves in open ice.
Sprint? Coast? Push the puck? And then when the 1-on-1 part began, from a
far blueline to the net, it was again a case of too much space that
allowed them to make la-di-da moves and the defence to cover a gap width
which just wasn’t realistic.

Afterwards, a parent asked me how I thought the practice went. Lousy,
I said, and he as much as agreed without saying so. My fault, I said,
and told him why.

Here’s hoping the boys have wiped it from their brain hard drives. One instance where I wish for muscle memory failure.

]]>Thu, 12 Feb 2015 15:12:30 -0400/blog/redirect?id=14827

You have to love traditions.

In hockey, it’s traditional to start a practice by throwing all
the pucks on the ice and letting the kids slap them around for five
minutes, doing nothing of any worth. Kiss 10% of your $200 per hour
practice time goodbye. Then you blow the whistle to stop them and start
the really important stuff.

There’s this other charming tradition coaches have which is to
blow the whistle about four times to get the kids to stop what they’re
doing. What if the first blast didn’t do it? Nor the next one
milliseconds later when they don't respond. By the fourth, the coach is
angry. If a whistle blow can show emotion, then the last one, where the
coach turns crimson from exhaling, is it.

Let’s not forget the tried and true warm up drill where the kids
skate around the rink and the coach whistles to speed up or slow down,
or uses two blasts for a sprint, then three blasts for a change of
direction, ultimately finishing with another looooong tweet to stop
them.

Finally, we shall begin each drill, or each player’s turn in a drill, with, well, a whistle.

To summarize, in a single practice, the coach has blown the
whistle to start a drill; to stop a drill; to change speeds; to change
direction; to get the kids to pay attention using some staccato blows;
perhaps an additional blow to bring them in, and all ending with one
long whistle to indicate the practice is over. Throw in one final
frustrated exhale for the stragglers who won’t stop playing with the
last puck.

And we wonder why kids are confused in practice and can’t think
for themselves or make decisions. Pretty simple answer. Coaches are
telling them what to do and when to do it non-stop. If you want your
practices to replicate game-like read and react plays, then we need to
allow the kids to think in practice. Of course, coaches lose something
along the way.

They lose control. Or rather, they perceive to cede control. To
most, you can't effectively run a drill or practice without a dose of
dictatorial command. It's nonsense. It's also diametrically opposite to
effective teaching. Yes, the kids will follow orders. However, they
don’t need to watch what's going on or be prepared because the coach
will always tell them when to do everything. Is that what we want?

Is it not possible to instruct this way?:

it’s your turn to go when the player in front of you has passed the centre line (or wherever)

do 2 laps and on the 2nd one sprint for five seconds and do that twice, once on either side of the rink

when I blow the whistle to stop the drill, stop the drill, then wait for my hand signal to come to me

look at the kid opposite you for the passing drill. You start when he goes.

etc.

You can’t teach thinking, decision-making, or read and react by whistling your way through practice. Stash the darn thing.

]]>Thu, 05 Feb 2015 15:49:50 -0400/blog/redirect?id=14794

As I wrote last week, I need to provide ongoing direction and
feedback to my boys in our games. The dearth of practice time, packed
game schedule, and—heavens!—no time outs, let alone commercial breaks,
make it necessary. Even between periods when they gather at the bench, I
have, at best, 30 seconds. Think fast; be succinct; make sense.

Translation: He did what he’s supposed to do, even if I hadn’t taught
it or he was in the wrong position to begin with. In other words,
announce to the team on the bench that Joey tried his best to catch
someone. His physical and mental effort are worthy of recognition.

“Great positioning on the forecheck, boys!”

Translation: You two other lines need to watch your teammates at how
they set themselves up properly. No matter what happened, even if the
forecheck was unsuccessful, they were in the right spots to execute
properly.

“Who’s got the guy in the slot?”

Translation: It isn’t rhetorical (a word I’ll explain another time!).
I really do mean it. Watch our slot. Who’s supposed to be there when
we’re battling in the corner? One of the two forwards on two lines on
this bench right now ought to be able to answer the question.

“Help him!”

Translation: Our defenceman is battling in the corner. We don’t know
if he’ll succeed at getting the puck, but that isn’t the point. We’ve
done many a drill on defensive area support—in the corners, at the net,
in the slot. So here’s the exact same situation we’ve done in practice,
yet the boy who is supposed to be helping, isn’t.

“Look!”

Translation: Defencemen, you’re going to get the puck and you’re not
under pressure. Again we’ve done numerous exercises where you’ve had to
practice your tight turns near the boards while digging out the puck
while turning your heads in search of someone to pass it to. Avoid the
panic rim! But if you don’t look first, that’s exactly what you’ll
resort to. And by the way, no, your forwards won’t always be in position
just because you looked. However, that’s not your fault nor your
problem. You take care of your own challenge first. (I know. So much
from one little word, but it’s essential)

“Great chip play!”

Translation: Well sure, it didn’t work because the intended receiver
had one hand on the stick and wasn’t ready. But Billy did just what we’d
practiced and at the right moment. He was looking and reacted the right
way.

“John, smart net coverage!”

Translation: It’s not the same as tough coverage or aggressive
coverage. You were netside of your guy with your stick under his stick
and looking around. You didn’t try to physically stop someone who didn’t
have the puck. You played it right. You dee-men watching?

Is the commentary helping? Indeed. The kids are becoming more game
aware now and understanding of the link between what we practice and
what needs to be executed in a game. Being Elmer Fudd just would not do
the trick at this level.

]]>Thu, 29 Jan 2015 14:05:34 -0400/blog/redirect?id=14709

The coach is to be stoic, emotionally controlled, and perhaps
somewhat stone-faced. If we’re to follow the examples we see on TV,
that’s true. Then again, they’re dealing with professionals who are
adults, or at the very least, older, experienced adolescents. It was
pretty much my approach with any non-minor team I’d coached. Things are
different now with my minor/major bantams.

For the first part of this season, I was prone to saying little
on the bench other than congratulatory remarks for good plays,
announcing line changes, and offering the occasional gentle verbal
butt-kick, softened by the sandwich approach: Something good - something
not so good - then something good again. There’s been, admittedly, the
odd “junior-level” brain fart when I’ve fallen into silence, forgetting
the age I was now dealing with. But of late, I’ve chosen to alter my
approach. We’re stuck in a brutally stupid schedule so mental and
physical fatigue gets to these young’uns more quickly. As a result, I’ve
needed to keep my verbal thumb on the pulse.

What’s life without risk? Verbal thumb on pulse really means
yakking on the bench using a mix of play-by-play along with colour
commentary. I’ve never actually done play-by-play but I have done plenty
of colour stuff for AAA and whatnot. It’s basically analyzing and to
some extent simplifying what the viewer already sees. I began to
recognize around November that that’s more what my bantams needed.

For one thing, they don’t much watch the game when on the bench.
They see it, but don’t observe, aside from the obvious plays. It’s a
lousy seat anyway. Even from the coach’s vantage point of standing on
the bench, a lot slips by. So whatever I catch needs to be important and
shared. There’s nothing gained from jabbering a river of commentary
about everything. You need to pick your spots.

Changing my bench approach has been a challenge. I’ve always been
very careful about over-coaching during a game. The real preparation is
done in practice or in off-ice chats with players. If a kid was
consistently out of position in a game because he just wouldn’t apply
himself mentally to doing it right, it’s darned tough to get him to
change that habit in the middle of a game. At least that was what I
found to be true with older elite players.

However, lower level competitive bantam is where those bad habits
originate. With the packed schedule and minimal practice time, it’s
pretty tough to coach the boys into the right habits. Hence my having to
resort to in-game teaching. Hardly the ideal approach but it’s all I’ve
got. So that’s where I am right now and need to be.

Next week, I’ll offer up some detail on what I say, when, and why. Does it even work? That’s the better question.

]]>Fri, 23 Jan 2015 13:10:50 -0400/blog/redirect?id=14688

Let’s say you’re out of town visiting family. It so happens the area
has hockey rinks and this is an immediate attraction, as in, “I wonder
what’s going on there today.”

So you make your way to a rink where the local college team is
practising. The team is in a well known league and the level of play?
Well, in North America, college hockey is perhaps the best kept secret,
more so in Canada than the U.S., but neither attracts the fans nor
attention like junior does. Since you’ve had some experience with
college and junior, you want to see what’s new in the coaching world.

You’ve seen all sorts of drills and neat ice activities over the
years so of late you’ve taken to watching the coaches instead. You
arrive as the players hit the ice. For the first 15 minutes, two coaches
run them through some fairly standard warm up drills. Pucks fly—off the
posts, off the glass, some even hit the goalie. No one says anything
and the goalies don’t seem too perturbed about their heads being used as
targets in a warm up. Another coach, the head guy it turns out, isn’t
watching the drills. He’s toodling with a puck on his own. Occasionally
he flips it at the glass, works a bit on his toe drags, takes a couple
of half-slappers at a goalie who’s between shooters. In the one hour
practice, he spends about a third of it doing this.

Then he takes over and puts the boys through some drills. But
you’re not watching them because you know that picking apart a drill or
questioning its use isn’t entirely fair. Mostly, drills are used to suit
a particular theme or address a need, neither of which you can know
unless you’ve been to every practice and game. What surprises you though
is that none of the three coaches communicate much with the players
beyond the standard shouts. They all stand at centre ice, next to the
rink whiteboard, and watch.

You leave a bit miffed. Good drills, nice flow, a few guys
allowed to float, one goalie didn’t seem to work too hard. But no
feedback. Nothing.

You return the next day to watch another one hour session. The
drills are largely the same but quicker, more jump. At one point, the
head coach gathers the team and makes some clear points about what the
drill needs. Yes, it’s faster, but not better. Execution is a bit
sloppy; body position happenstance; defencemen back in too far and to
start drills their feet are locked. No individual feedback to them or
anyone else.

You leave wondering how much of that stand-offish approach you’ve
used. As an observer, it seemed like the players were missing out on
important help. You make a note to yourself: Don’t do it that way.

]]>Thu, 15 Jan 2015 14:20:36 -0400/blog/redirect?id=14669

There was a time long ago when I was not much older than my players,
about eight years when I started. The relationship was more like an
older brother than an authority figure. It had some advantages. Parents
had lower expectations of a young coach, figuring someone that young
with minimum experience was excused from doing or saying things more,
shall we say, mature adults might not. Credibility wasn’t an issue; I
didn’t have any.

The age gap between me and my first junior club players was about
the same as those early years coaching pee wee and bantam. The
difference, however, was that junior guys know and have done more. A lot
more. Their expectations (and the club’s) dwarfed anything I’d faced.
We call it naiveté and I was awash in it. So while I had some
respectable beginner coaching skills, I had to learn about the culture
of working in an elite environment. My age wasn’t the issue; my ability
to relate to these players nearly was. Credibility didn’t matter much if
I could get the job done for them.

For a while, I wanted to be older. In Europe, my club had four
players older than me. All had been on the country’s national team, a
point of pride for them that I never quite appreciated. This was
because, relative to Canada, their national team was pretty poor. They
figured they had the playing chops while their Canadian coach, who was
okay as a coach, just didn’t get it. How could he not? Well, they were a
bit arrogant about it. Even their teammates said so. But the point was
made. A coach needs to understand relativity in every situation.

As an assistant in college hockey, I successfully widened the age
gap between me and the guys, which actually helped. Someone over 30 had
to know what he was doing, didn’t he?

While coaching elite bantam and midget teams and being in
Canada’s Program of Excellence, I discovered I’d have been hard pressed
to get as much out of it as I did were I not relatively much older than
the players. Experience now counted and being old enough to be players’
parents meant I had probably developed enough life skills to get by
(though I always wondered what specific life skills counted or didn’t!).

Then a peculiar thing happened. I grew older than my players’
parents. Now suddenly the ability to relate to players as I’d managed in
a previous epoch no longer existed. I had to start all over again
because, really, I’d begun to lose touch with that generation. The same
work I had to apply to develop credibility now needed to be channeled
into re-learning communication skills I’d long since taken for granted.

Einstein sort of had it right. The energy (e) it takes to coach
equals (=) most of your life experiences (m) multiplied by your coaching
competencies (c) on top of each other (squared). Seems simple enough.
Relatively speaking.

]]>Thu, 08 Jan 2015 09:36:10 -0400/blog/redirect?id=14654

The boy was 14 and neither of the coaches quite knew how to deal with
him. He’d untie and re-tie his laces after every shift. He’d mumble
about linemates and opposing players out to get him. He could, if he
wanted to, use his immense skating and puck handling skills to blow by
everyone on the rink, but never did. His parents were at a loss, even
after sending him to a psychologist.

Teammates couldn’t stand him. He was just “off.” Blessed with all the
physical attributes of a potential star, Tim never did cut it anywhere,
not in minor nor junior with a few different teams. There was no
disciplinary action that could properly address his idiosyncrasies.

Barry had been, at 16, the top scorer in the junior A team’s training
camp. Yet he was cut and not told why. So he went to midget with a chip
on his shoulder the size of a cement block. He was difficult to coach,
to teach, to direct, to advise. Linemates didn’t want to give him the
puck for fear of never seeing it again. He took penalties for yapping.
Some players told the coach to just sit him and he’d get the picture.
But the coach wouldn’t do it, figuring benching would just frustrate
even more an already frustrated potentially great player.

The next year, Barry made the junior A club and within a year was a
star on a team that made it to the national final. About ten years
later, the coach got a phone call from Barry. He’d completed his masters
degree, was teaching high school in the U.S. and coaching its hockey
team. He called to thank the coach for his patience in midget when the
world, he said, seemed stacked against him.

Jack coached a competitive atom team. One boy, Pierre, had a history
of bad stick penalties and seemed perpetually angry. In one game, Pierre
took three more. So Jack sat him a shift and used the extra minute to
talk to him. Pierre’s father saw the missed shift, ran from the stands
around to the bench, literally picked up his son and carried him off to
the room. He later charged Jack with abusing his son. The charge went
nowhere as there was nothing to it, but Jack left coaching for a few
years. Pierre grew up to become a penalty leader in midget and junior.

Every coach has dealt with similar issues in varying degrees. But in
nearly every case, reactionary or punitive discipline becomes merely a
stopgap. It doesn’t address the core issues and that’s where coaches
need to begin. Having a kid sit a shift or a period may be a short term
solution, but is rarely more than that.

Like the process to release players in tryouts, there’s no perfect
answer though there are certainly better ways of going about it. So,
too, goes discipline where preventive steps and carefully measured
responses should be the rule.

]]>Tue, 30 Dec 2014 16:43:59 -0400/blog/redirect?id=14645

Sit him! Ride the pine 'til you get it!

There was a time when that approach was not only acceptable but also
the norm. As a purely punitive measure, it certainly sent a message.
Whether or not it worked is another matter.

Ask adults now about the effect of being benched and you’re not
likely to hear many positive comments. Today’s coaches are loathe to
resort to benching, yet still do it mostly because they know of no other
approach to take. Denial of ice time is a simple solution, whether
during a game or benching for an entire one. But I have to wonder what
preventive measures existed before it even got to that point. What
communication approaches were used with parents and players?

I was recently told of a competitive pee wee team comprised of
first and second year pee wees on which one boy won a tournament MVP
award. Allegedly, in the room afterwards, second year players derided
the award winner, a first year player, commenting that he didn’t deserve
it, others did, etc. Some years later, that youngster vividly recalls
the hurt. How did it ever come to that point in the room?

There isn’t a coach I know who hasn’t had a difficult team or one
with a few challenging individuals. The trick, one could say, is in
knowing how to corral the difficult ones and redirect their negative
energy into a positive one. This doesn’t solely happen on the ice.
That’s but one component of what constitutes proper team management.
And, let’s face it, sometimes no matter what you do, it just doesn’t hit
the mark. Coaches often forget they’re merely coaches. They can’t
parent the players, a role best left to, well, the parents. If the
parents don’t support a coach’s efforts, then the coach is really in
trouble.

It all has to start though with establishing the right foundation
from the outset. A respectful environment is created through words and
actions; by the coach; by the parents; by the players; on the ice; in
the room; on the bench; even in the arena foyer and stands. Once it’s
clear what is deemed acceptable, then the so-called “out-of-line”
comments or events become true and clear anomalies. Parents are a lot
more willing to be supportive when they recognize that their child’s
poor behaviour, whatever form it takes, is truly inconsistent with what
the team has had. There’s even a little subtle peer pressure among
parents and kids to address things which are just not acceptable.
Sometimes the coach can succeed at dealing with issues by merely
pointing them out and letting parents mull over their own solutions.
They are, after all, the parents.

The whole idea of course is to head off the suspendable problems
before they get to the stage where the coach is about to issue a threat.
By then, there aren’t many options left. I’ll look at those next week.

]]>Mon, 29 Dec 2014 08:57:14 -0400/blog/redirect?id=14591

A recent coaches meeting hosted by my association reminded me of a
wonderful Monty Python sketch from the 1971 film “And Now for Something
Completely Different.” It was called “How not to be seen.” Characters
would hide behind bushes, trees and rocks, which would blow up (cue
sounds of screams), exposing where they’d been. In other words, you
can’t not be seen.

Now to the meeting and the litany of ways a
coach could get suspended for this and that. The president would have
had a far shorter and more productive agenda had he just called it, “How
not to be suspended.” For this seems to be the raison d’etre for some
minor hockey organizations: We won’t just register your kids, schedule
your games, and track results. We’ll also watch your every move. Heaven
help you if you overstep your bounds as coach, such as the association
has created, to discipline a player. If you do, we’ll suspend you.

One
association puts in its rules that a coach can impose only two types of
“benching” suspensions. You bench a child for one shift—only once per
season! The other is to bench the player (ie. sit him out) for an entire
game— also just once per season. Nothing in between.

Now
clearly the rules were created to stave off a wave of punitive measures
by overzealous coaches who were sitting kids willy-nilly. Utter a swear
word and sit. Take yet another silly penalty and sit. Criticize a
teammate and sit. In other words, rather than deal with the source of
problems and nip them in the bud early on, coaches would resort to the
most expedient and easiest approach which is to ride the pine. (Old
timers are free here to invoke the “in my day” mutterings right about
now, as in, “In my day, you sat if you didn’t behave.”)

However,
the two permitted “benching” situations don’t work on a few levels.
They don’t solve whatever problem led to the suspension. Purely punitive
measures, especially minor ones, rarely do. They don’t recognize that
some hockey events are out of a coach’s and even a player’s control. Bad
officiating is one. A child may indeed take two straight stick
penalties, but maybe both were accidental or the referee goofed. It
happens. Sitting the child a shift only causes frustration. Jumping from
a one-shift suspension to a coach-imposed one-game suspension, even
though parents are apprised beforehand, suggests that the only way to
deal with an issue is in a game. In fact, the rules that allow
coach-imposed suspensions handcuff the coach, for what’s he to do
afterward?

It was even suggested at the coaches meeting that
night that a one-game suspension might be warranted for someone
regularly not attending practices. Surely there are a host of reasons
why a child doesn’t go to practice. How benching him for one game deals
with the issue baffles me.

Next week, I’ll take a look at
approaches coaches need to take to avoid benching under such rules as
well as how to tweak these rules to make them “real world” friendly.

]]>Thu, 18 Dec 2014 13:27:09 -0400/blog/redirect?id=14577

It's a testament to the ridiculous nature of our schedule that, two
weeks before Christmas, our season is 60% done. There's been precious
little time to step back and assess how the team and individuals are
faring, apart from the standings and stats. Neither in minor hockey says
much about their developmental progress.

Normally at
the halfway point of a season I've managed to do a fair amount of self
and player assessment. Then I'd meet with individuals to discuss where
they are and where they're going. This bantam season, it's pretty much
impossible to pull off. Game after game after game with intermittent
practices. Sounds more like a dismal weather forecast.

Nevertheless,
I need to slither into reflection mode, however brief. For starters,
I’m cobbling together a mid-season evaluation survey to send to parents
and the kids. The association doesn’t do it; few of them do. During a
stint as the mentor for a club some years ago, I insisted parents and
players be given mid-season evaluations to do of the coach, his staff
and the program. Part of it was to force the coach to do some reflection
of his own and thus work at improving what he offered. And, frankly,
the other part was for the club and me to get feedback because we
couldn’t possibly be around the team all the time. Besides, usually when
a arrived at the board’s doorstep, it had actually become an issue
rather than being intercepted early and addressed, which was another
another reason for the mid-season report.

Am I
looking for anything in particular? Not really. Just the anomalies. Like
a teacher, it’s impossible for a coach to please everyone all the time.
However, after having supervised these for other coaches, it’s always
been interesting how little gems of information no one knew seem to rise
from nowhere. Suddenly we find out one boy doesn’t get along with
certain teammates. Or, in spite of what we might see on the ice, another
is losing his confidence. Perhaps someone is contemplating quitting the
game at the end of the year. Since kids aren’t always forthcoming with
coaches, and I’d be no exception, I wonder what things I’ll discover.

I’m
less concerned about my kids’ playing development than whether or not
they so far view the season as having been a valuable and fun
experience. We can’t measure either of course. I’m fairly sure every boy
has shown improvement in some way on the ice in a wide array of
particular skills. Even ones who’ve floundered show signs of “getting
it.”

It’s the soft skills I fret over. Have
they become more respectful of teammates, opposition teams, and, in
fact, the game? Are they comfortable coming to me or other coaches about
team issues? Do they FEEL they’re improving? Do they look forward to
coming to the rink? Is every hour with the team a good one, a fun one?

And then, what do I need to change in myself at this 60% midway point?

]]>Thu, 11 Dec 2014 16:29:11 -0400/blog/redirect?id=14544

Like most
anything in minor hockey, trying to strategize with bantams who aren’t elite
players is tricky. Plenty of coaches would like to think they know what
constitutes a certain kind of playing system and how to present it. This may be
true with higher level or older athletes. It’s an altogether different
challenge with a group like mine this season.

I know of a few
coaches who take pride in stating how they’ve taught their kids a couple of
different types of forecheck patterns and even breakouts. How much they work is
quite another matter. Besides, what do we use to measure their success? And if
we need to measure such things, are we in danger of overusing stats for
basically straightforward things?

Most of my
coaching years have been with older, elite level teams. The “hockey IQ” gap
between 18-year-old juniors and these kids is huge. In fact, while working with
our regional under 14s last spring, I noticed a similar problem. Those boys had
great skill but their ability to grasp and apply strategies over an entire rink
was a challenge for some. They just didn’t have the experience, the long-term
exposure to complex playing systems. Some came from teams where they had almost
nothing of it. So, while the team succeeded mostly on the basis of superior
skill and a handful of truly terrific competitors, a few kids really struggled
with what their responsibilities were in each zone.

Same idea with
my bantams. Sure, I could show them a simple forecheck setup, but what does it
lead to? What becomes of their roles coming back into the neutral zone? Can my
defencemen read what their forwards are doing and act accordingly? Those are two
very different issues. They may know what they should do but their skill might
hinder accomplishing it.

There’s
another key factor to consider. Impressing kids with fancy terminology and cool
diagrams will win them over only until they get on the ice and discover the
opposition is just not being cooperative. What seemed pretty simple in practice
or on the whiteboard has now dashed their hopes for success. Therein lies the
key to whatever I needed to devise. They absolutely must feel like it’s
working, even if in just one or two zones. The success of a playing system also
has to seamlessly link with their current skills, ability to apply key
individual tactics and knowledge of what to do and when. At the heart of it is
giving the kids confidence they could succeed strategically. Not so easy when
the boys only have a couple of years of competitive experience.

What I came up
with was pretty simple. Like any playing system, you give up something to
achieve a certain result. Some shifts it worked. Others, not so much. But the
point was that on the bench they were helping each other out and recognizing
what needed fixing. And when it worked, they were proud of themselves. Step one
achieved.

]]>Thu, 04 Dec 2014 14:40:17 -0400/blog/redirect?id=14518

There are a number of laws governing coach-team communication.

First
there’s the Law of Diminishing Returns. This is followed closely by the
Law of Insignificant Blather which in turn is a corollary to the Law of
Self-Important Claptrap. A lesser known but oft broken one is the Law
of Volume Discount. The grandaddy of them all is the Law of Relativity.
Each of these has found its way into minor hockey coaching mostly
because coaches don’t quite seem to get it.

To wit this example:
In my region there exists a level of hockey called major novice
competitive. In other words, eight-year-old travel teams where the best
kids from associations play each other. Frankly, it’s a recipe for more
problems than proper development, but that’s another story. One recent
day, the head coach of a team made a pre-game speech. The group isn’t
very strong and is struggling in the standings. On the heels of a
practice whose focus was positional play, another slap in the face of
development, the coach had this to say before a game. “I have five words
for you: Position - Position - Position - Position and Position.” At
which he marched out of the room followed by the kids. (They lost the
game, by the way).

I’m not sure what his aim was, but let’s look at the application of the communication laws.

Diminishing
Returns - In his defence, his talk was wonderfully brief, under 30
seconds, about the time it takes for an eight-year-old to figure out how
to fasten his own helmet. So the coach did well here.

Insignificant
Blather - The question is, was his statement significant? And then, to
whom? Given he’d done some teaching of positional play (rightly or
wrongly), his point was sort of relevant. Blather? Um, yes, because
eight-year-olds might have mistaken position to refer to their being
seated or standing. I rather suspect, too, that the significance of
getting the puck was more important.

Self-Important Claptrap - He
bombed on this one. To any other adult either in the room or hearing
about this, he comes across as someone who forgets that, when seated,
he’s still taller than his players. Mind you, it's nice how he slipped
in some basic mathematics by first predicting he’d say five words and
then actually doing it.

Volume Discount - While the talk was short
enough, why couldn’t he have just said, “I have one word for you:
position.” and let it hang there for a moment, then describe it? No, he
figured saying it five times would carry greater import. It didn’t.

Relativity
- If the most important thing before a game for eight year olds is that
they play their positions, then they might as well quit hockey at ten
because there’ll be nothing more to learn.

Coach, whoever you are, get a grip.

]]>Thu, 27 Nov 2014 15:41:54 -0400/blog/redirect?id=14482

Sometimes you
just get flipped a knuckle-puck, one of those goofy flip shots from half a rink
away that floats, dips, bounces, and careens off to where it’s not expected.
That’s what I got for practice one Friday.

We were to play
Saturday and Sunday and had a two hour practice Friday evening. As a rule,
I’ve never much liked two hour practices at any level. If a practice has the
right intensity and focus, you can squeeze far more out of players in 80 or even
50 minutes than stretching things out. With 13- and 14-year-olds, you can only
review skills for short periods. Moreover, their capacity to absorb much
tactical content is limited by their skills. The brains may comprehend just
fine, however the bodies can’t quite get around to it.

So my challenge
was how to keep my bantams engaged for two hours yet still cover those aspects
of the yearly plan which seem essential. Then came my “knuckle-puck.” A
couple of hours before practice, I was notified that one of my goalies had
turned an ankle in phys. ed. class and couldn’t practice. This created a
couple of problems (aside from it being too late to call on our affiliate). The
offensive play drills centered on needing a goalie for the forwards to learn how
to use wraparounds and for the defenceman to work on low shots. The end of the
practice was to be a 3 versus 3 small area game (SAG), using two nets in one
zone, with the defending team playing with sticks reversed. This was to
highlight man-on-man coverage, quick passing and getting to open space,
something that would be facilitated by having two nets for attackers to choose
from.

With only one
goalie, I needed to change the plan. I altered a couple of drills then decided
to take an approach I hadn’t in many years. The second half of the
practice, after a resurfacing, was a carbon copy of the first. Whatever I taught
or showed in hour 1 needed reinforcement and there was no better way than to do
it again in hour 2. As to the 3 on 3, we used one goalie, stayed below the tops
of the circles, and did the SAG as designed. Of course, as kids would do, they
jammed up a bit more than I’d wanted, which is why the two goalie-one zone
plan would have been ideal.

The drills
weren’t complicated; they never are. But they did require a level of thinking
and timing that necessitated repetition. This happens to be a hallmark of the
late great UCLA basketball coach John Wooden’s approach: explanation, demonstration, imitation,
repetition, repetition, repetition, repetition, and repetition.

So that’s we did. In the second hour, they
no longer needed to think about how to do the drills or what the objectives
were. As a result, the execution was better and the kids more comfortable with
the expectations.

Then on Saturday we went out and got smacked
6-0.

]]>Thu, 20 Nov 2014 15:42:08 -0400/blog/redirect?id=14471

As I was
walking into a rink the other day, a fellow who is a parent but not a coach
asked me how much time I spend coaching my team.

This was a
poser. Maybe he expected a quick answer that would floor him. Actually, I’m
not sure why he asked. But he managed to stump me because I really didn’t
know. So I started by saying it took me about an hour to create each practice
plan, plus the actual ice time, plus travel to and from rinks. Then there are
games and prepping for those. Yes, I do prep for games.

On game days,
NHL coaches are usually in their offices early in the morning preparing. In
junior, I spent most of the day thinking about the evening’s game, jotting
down notes, wondering how I’d approach situations, which players to address
for what… Sometimes I got to it all; sometimes it just didn’t happen because
events conspired against it. But even this year, back in minor hockey, I find
myself doing the same thing, tempering most thoughts with, “Careful now,
Richard. They’re 13 and 14. Keep it in perspective.” Does thinking count as
time spent coaching?

Because if it
does, like most coaches I know, I probably spend a good many hours pondering,
reflecting, self-evaluating and occasionally self-flagellating over a host of
things coaches need to handle in the game. Mostly, the games and practices are
almost anti-climactic because so much thought has gone into
them.

I worry I’ve
said the wrong thing or too much. I wonder how to approach a goalie who’s had
a bad period. Do I strictly adhere to the “criticize in private, praise in
public” approach? Will this be the right game to fiddle with lines or game
plans? Has the practice or even a drill accomplished what I wanted? And, is what
I wanted the right thing?

So you can see
how stumped I was by the man’s question. If you took actual time to, from and
at the rink, on average, it’d be about 10 to 15 hours each week. Which is what I
told him once I added the caveat about prepping for practices. This with an
entry level competitive bantam team having 30 league games, four tournaments and
about 60 hours of practice in a season.

I’m not sure
what it adds up to in terms of volunteer commitment and I can’t say it matters
anyway. In my broad network of hockey colleagues, I know of no one who complains
about time at the rink, let alone prepping and thinking. Certainly there are no
ligature marks on my wrists from being dragged, kicking and screaming, into
coaching. As for time spent, it’s the one thing I don’t think
about.

]]>Wed, 12 Nov 2014 10:12:20 -0400/blog/redirect?id=14465

Recently I heard of a fellow who applied to coach a minor hockey team but didn’t get it. The team wasn’t all he didn’t get because he appealed the decision.

A little background on how this could happen. The governing body of minor hockey in that Hockey Canada branch sort of publicly declared that anything is “appealable.” In the normal sense, one would assume this meant suspensions for game play, administrative foul-ups, or the usual errors or penalties anyone can run into during a season. I hope the spirit of the “anything is appealable” statement was meant for those. Because if truly anything was appealable, could that not include run-of-the-mill game infractions? Joey gets a tripping penalty but he wasn’t near the kid who fell. Still, the referee (erroneously) doled out a penalty which led to the winning goal. The team appeals the game because the official erred. A fairly frequent and typical scenario in minor hockey, isn’t it?

But appealing a decision where a coach is not given a team takes things to an entirely different and rather unpleasant level. The process goes thusly: The coach must first appeal to his local association, the very same group which ratified the slate of team coaches recommended by a selection committee. Clearly, they didn’t want the guy. So he wanted to try to convince said body to change its mind?

Having failed there—no surprise—the chap went to the next level of appeal, which is the district that oversees the association. They backed up the association’s decision because, after all, associations have to have some autonomy in these things. Short of a human rights violation, there wasn’t anything compelling to suggest a wrong decision. The fellow lost at this level, too.

Then he appealed, with a fee, to the minor hockey governing body. Here again his appeal was denied. He took yet another step and appealed, with another fee, to the branch which oversees the minor hockey governing body. Lost again.

He has one more step. He can appeal to Hockey Canada. If I were on the HC Appeals Committee, I’d be chomping at the bit to tell the poor man he’s lost perspective, doesn’t get it, and needs to get over himself— once HC takes more money from him for this final appeal. Evidently he can’t handle the truth because he’s not wanted as a coach and there seems to be rather definitive agreement on this, rightly or wrongly.

But the crux of the problem lies only partly with the man. The organization has opened itself up to what could be a litany of appeals on flimsy subjective judgements. The result will have board members, already plenty busy running hockey programs, spending inordinate amounts of dealing with fluff. All because anything is appealable.

]]>Thu, 06 Nov 2014 19:18:38 -0400/blog/redirect?id=14438

Coaches talk
too much. We expect, by virtue of our lofty and powerful positions, that just
about anything we say to our players is both profound and
useful.

Of course, this
is, as Col. Sherman T. Potter would say on the TV show M.A.S.H., a load of donkey
chips. There comes a time when the players just need to play the game with a
minimum of fuss and bother. Which is why when my bantams played their first one,
there was nothing I could say to prepare them more, if they’d been prepared at
all.

We lost 4-0. I
suppose I could dissect the game zone by zone, period by period, even shift by
shift in some cases. However, the essence of this team’s looming tribulations
centres on some inescapable facts, to wit:

We are a minor/major team playing in a major bantam league. Half
the team is first year bantams and, at this age, the extra year of bantam
experience is significant.

The minors in particular just don’t have the strength and
balance yet to beat or ward off checkers. Try as they might - and they do try
hard - unless they place their bodies in exactly the right position each time,
they will get pushed off the puck. And they did. Frequently. That same lack of
strength made it really difficult for them to even clear loose pucks away from
the net or out of the zone. “High and hard off the glass” isn’t so easy
when you have neither the strength nor quickness to do it.

Only 21 boys tried out for the team: 18 skaters and 3 goalies. We
kept 15 and 2. That’s slim pickings when our opposition is selecting from many
dozens. So on sheer numbers alone, the talent pool is
thin.

Lousy as I am
at making predictions (otherwise I’d buy lottery tickets), this team won’t
win a lot of games. Keen, enthusiastic and positive as they are, the avoidance
of frustration will be an objective.

After a long
string of practices, they were noticeably wired and ready to play game 1. There
wasn’t much to say in the room beforehand to either relax them or get them
prepped. How about we just play, I said. During the game, I limited bench
feedback to reminders of short shifts and verbal pats on the back for nice
plays. Both were a coaching challenge. Short shifts are a good deal easier in
junior where players can jump the boards. Not so easy for kids who need a step
ladder to do it. Nice plays? Yes, there were some but mostly it was a case of
looking for the smallest of good attempts to laud. A fine try at a stick check.
A nice pass, though a bit late. Good defensive body position, even if by
accident.

I wanted the
kids to return from a shift feeling they’d accomplished even one or two things
successfully against an opposition that was clearly better all around, though
not outstanding.

Small victories
all around. It was, after all, just the first game.

]]>Fri, 31 Oct 2014 09:32:04 -0400/blog/redirect?id=14428

A vagary of the
minor hockey schedule in my area had us not play our first game 'til
Oct. 19.
The last one of 30 will be Feb. 9. So 30 games in 100 days, with two
weeks off t Christmas, more like a pro or junior schedule than one for
13- to 14-year-old
entry level competitive kids.

The late start
created some interesting challenges I hadn’t faced before. Even in my bygone
days of minor coaching, I can’t recall so many practices without a game—11
since our second of the two exhibition games we got spanked in. That was nearly
a month ago. The kids were antsy, to say the least.

Now I could say
the many preseason practices were ideal for a good practice to game ratio or
that we’d be extra prepared for the season opener because of them. The reality
has been that the ratio will be shot to pieces with all the games crunched into
a short time frame with little room for more practices. Plus, you can be too
prepared and the kids are bored with practice. I can’t blame
them.

The challenge
has been to come up with creative practices, particularly in the final few
leading up to Game 1, that had competitive components and still accentuated key
skills. Let’s face it: The boys still need to learn how to play the game and
no amount of skill instruction and individual tactics will provide much more
than a superficial notion of it. The balance then is in keeping them tuned to
both the game and how to improve. I’d spent most of the last 25 years with
junior or elite groups with different needs and a greater sense of immediacy for
success. Here though my eyes are not on the next game prize but the end of
season one. How much can I get these kids to improve by
February?

But I’ve been
up against the one roadblock no coach can do anything about: Mother Nature. Kids
who haven’t yet matured much physically, particularly true of our first year
bantams, are having a tough time keeping up. They want to; they think the game
well enough; they have a pretty good idea what to do and when. But often just
can’t get there or succeed. It’s been obvious in drills and will become
truer in games.

This means my
practices have to continue to provide them plenty of opportunities to work under
a certain level of acceptable duress while still allowing them the chance to
succeed. Not much point in doing drills or small area games where the benchmark
is failure.

Besides, once
the season starts, coaching in games is far more difficult, quite unlike in
junior where mid-period changes to strategy were commonplace. So how did we fare
in game one?

]]>Fri, 31 Oct 2014 16:36:48 -0400/blog/redirect?id=13387

The younger the
kids, the more you have to do.

This is no
truer than with the Initiation Program (IP) which was designed to deal with the
littluns at ages five to six, even four-year-olds in some places. Herding cats on a
football field would be easier. This likely explains why new instructors in IP
find the very thought of arranging on-ice programs to be so daunting. They're
right; it is. At first.

Sidebar: Did
you note the use of the word "instructors"? One of the great and misleading
misnomers in Canadian hockey is how the title of "coach" is applied to those
working with little gaffers. There's no coaching here. It's all leading,
directing, instructing, and guiding.

As to an actual
IP setup, there seemed to be a school of thought that you showed up on the ice
with your blue 4 oz. pucks, ran the kids through a few pylon drills or crossover
exercises, then dumped them into a half ice game of 6 vs. 6 with one volunteer
per team poured into a pair of goalie pads and gloves.

So when, in a
recent day long IP clinic, I spent some time reviewing just how detailed a
program needs to be, there were questions. And eyebrows raised. What about
getting and storing equipment? What about how we create groups (when we’ve
been using teams 'til now)? Which instructor creates the lesson plans? Who does
the budget? (My answer: budget for what? They’re five and six years old and already
registered!) Where do we get goalie equipment? (My answer: you don’t. Give one
kid a goalie stick and don’t worry about it.) Who’s going to deal with all
these logistical issues?

For a brief
moment I wondered if they were confusing the set up of an Initiation Program
with hosting the Olympic Games.

Gents, I said,
those are valid questions, but not the ones we should be asking. It’s not
about logistics. It’s about how we best teach these kids and provide a program
that is kid-centred. There’s no question, I continued, there are some
challenges at the outset. However, once these so-called logistical issues are
addressed, the program, if done properly, will hum nicely.

I guess people
who haven’t been involved much in development programs themselves may be more
prone to worrying about relatively non-essential things. If you strip down an IP
to its most important factors, you could probably run a decent program with none
of the things they asked about. Not great, but passable.

My suggestion
was to create committees of parents to deal with each of these. Parents mostly
like to help out with small tasks as long as the roles are shared. But let’s
not make the focus of a strong Initiation Program be where to store pylons and
play balls or just how to create homogeneous player groups. They’re the wrong
tails wagging the development dog.

]]>Thu, 16 Oct 2014 15:49:45 -0400/blog/redirect?id=13381

Once upon a time, ABC aired “Wide World of Sports.” Its host, Jim
McKay, opened each show by mentioning “The thrill of victory, the agony
of defeat.”

At the professional or international levels, it was true enough. Not
so in minor hockey, as my bantam youngsters found out when they lost two
pre-season games 9-0 and 10-2. For one thing, the opposition, from
another branch and at a higher level, was clearly a much stronger team.
They had few really weak players and a handful of exceptionally strong
ones for this age and level. One boy, a defenceman, was about 5’10” and
190 lbs. with a heavy slapshot that everyone on both teams got out of
the way of. I can’t blame them, partly because he wasn’t quite sure
where it was going.

Were the scores reflective of their domination? Pretty much, yes. My
boys got bounced around and were fairly bagged from chasing puckcarriers
in their own zone. It’s one thing to do it for a couple of shifts in a
row. It’s quite another when you spend most of a period doing it.

Yet after the first game, there was no agony of defeat. It certainly
had nothing to do with anything I said. Kids are intuitive and far more
knowledgeable than we give them credit for. They knew the team was at a
different level, that their own skills couldn’t match up. The best they
could hope for was to win occasional small victories and never mind the
score.

Indeed, this is a lot harder to wrap one’s head around once the
regular season begins. But it was a lesson for them and for me since I’d
spent so many years in junior where there were less opportunities to
learn from “moral” victories. So going into the second game, there was
no point doing much of the usual pre-game blah-blah. They already knew
what they were up against.

I spoke to the opposing coach beforehand. He was a decent young
fellow, new to the region and the team, who was a little embarrassed by
the first shellacking. I asked him to tell his boys for the second game
not to back off. We needed the difficult challenge. Besides, I said, now
we had him where we wanted him!

The boys were remarkably upbeat throughout that second game. It
helped we scored the first goal and were down only 4-2 after two. Then
they popped in three quickies in the first two minutes of the third. My
kids, already tired, had had enough of them by this point and, while,
they never gave up, their brain cells drifted into slumber mode as the
opposition scored six in the third period.

Afterwards in the room, nary a headshake or frown. No agony of defeat. Just pride in having scored twice on them, and survived.

]]>Tue, 14 Oct 2014 10:12:27 -0400/blog/redirect?id=13374

There are times
in coaching clinics when I get bewildered looks from participants about one
particular point. And no, it has nothing to do with how I’m dressed or if I
got those specks of broccoli from last night’s dinner out of my teeth
.

It’s about
things, as I call them, since I’m loathe to simply call them drills. A
collection of drills kept handy doesn’t really address the issue I
discuss
with coaches. Their challenge is to have at the ready a bunch of
activities—things—they could do in practice when a portion of the plan
has gone
dry.

How and why a
practice hits the skids is another matter. What I suggest to coaches at
any
level is to have contingencies. This is especially challenging with
younger,
less skilled kids, which is where the quizzical looks come from.
Usually,
coaches will try to stick to their plans, deviating only slightly. If a
drill—thing!—has been allotted 10 minutes, they may shorten it to five
because it’s
not going well, or even lengthen it because the kids love it. Both are
viable
options, but certainly not the only ones.

With less
skilled kids, you can’t just run flow drills then stand back and watch, not
that a coach should ever do that anyway. Nor can you have skill-based exercises
with large numbers of reps in a short period of time that exhausts them. Coaches
are often surprised to see that the wonderful puckhandling drill they devised
gets pretty boring after a half dozen tries. Meanwhile, they’d set aside 10
minutes for it yet it was mostly done after only four.

This where
“things” come in. They can be new drills, extensions of the current one,
parallel activities that have a competitive component, or just a fun game or
mini scrimmage. When I suggest to coaches in clinics they’d be wise to have a
long list of these at hand for any practice, there’s a bit of worry. Where to
get these? Or, how to create them? How to know when to use them? I’ll address
those in a future blog.

What’s
important now, at the outset of a season, is to realize that younger,
less skilled players need a wide variety of ice experiences. As they get older
and better, they learn to follow drawn diagrams, make better choices on how to
do activities, and work more effectively with other players on a team. This is
isn’t the case for everyone though. Even bantam house league players, for
instance, would have difficulty doing a lot of flow drills simply because their
skills don’t allow them to execute properly.

So even after
describing all of this, I still get those looks. This explains why I brush my
teeth before every clinic.

]]>Thu, 02 Oct 2014 11:58:45 -0400/blog/redirect?id=13334

“What’s in
a name?” wrote a certain Mr. Shakespeare in Romeo and Juliet.

Quite a lot if
we’re to affix names of titles to positions in hockey. It’s not just
semantics. For instance, in the media and everyday parlance, we use the word
“hit” to describe a solid body check. Perhaps this is fine in the pros and
junior. It’s not at all appropriate in minor hockey where the connotation of
the word is entirely misplaced. “Hit” suggests a good body check must be
aggressive rather than assertive, edging on violent rather than
effective.

Hitting, I say
to coaches and young players, is reserved for baseball and football. Not
hockey.

Back to word
play. The terms we use to describe the leadership positions in our game need to
be carefully considered. The biggest culprit, victim actually, is the Initiation
Program. Begun nationwide in the mid 1980s, the IP is the foundation of our
game. It was so successful at its outset that USA Hockey and numerous other
hockey federations tried to copy it. They’ve since surpassed our program,
redrawing it in their own visions.

The IP’s
history dates back to a program called Sca-Dia in Montreal in the 1970s. It was
an instructional program, a hockey school in fact, for little ones created by
the brilliant hockey team of Gaston Marcotte, Charles Thifault, Christian
Pelchat, and Georges Larivieres, perhaps four of the finest hockey teachers this
country has had. Sca-Dia (and Gaston, with whom I taught in the 70s, could never
explain the origin of the name) evolved into the Hockey Quebec teaching program
and from that came the fibres which were sewn into the IP.

But the IP is
now devolving and a lot of it is due to misnomers. It is, and has always been,
an instructional program. As such, the on-ice teachers are instructors, not
coaches. At the same time, the kids on the ice are divided into groups, not
teams. The difference in meanings is significant.

As soon as you
create teams, you need coaches. Teams are run by coaches. Teams suggest team
play, camaraderie, cohesion, specific numbers of players, positions, even lines
or units. But the IP should be none of those. The kids are five and six years old,
after all.

Groups of kids,
however, means there can be any number in a group with the groups created
according to whatever works best. They don’t need to wear the same jerseys.
The people teaching them are directing them and teaching skills, not practising
break out passes. (Yes, I’ve seen IP “coaches” actually do that). Nor
should they ever - ever! - do any full ice activities, especially
scrimmages.

Once an
association’s IP leaders insist on the right terminology, the
not-so-subliminal message will be that we are running an instructional
program for
little kids, not building miniature teams to prepare them for pee wee.

]]>Thu, 25 Sep 2014 14:22:37 -0400/blog/redirect?id=13286

Sweeping
generalization here: Coaches go from minor to junior. Few do it the other way
around. My bet is, they’re afraid of the physical demands of coaching a minor
hockey team.

Let’s face
it. In junior, I didn’t have to take part in, demonstrate or even watch over
pre-ice warm ups. I could diagram drills, using even sloppy writing and poor
markings, and most players could understand. Even if they didn’t, there was
always a guy to demo what was needed. I’d just point and say, “Yes, like
that!” We did few really technical core skills and certainly nothing that
required my showing 19-year-olds how to do a tight turn or take a type of
shot.

Then there was
the equipment. It was all in the team’s room. Pucks, pylons, rink board.
Sometimes I left my stick, keeping an extra couple at home for coaching clinics.
Carrying stuff into the rink was a breeze.

All gone now.
With my new bantam group, I have to truck a pail full of pucks into the rink.
Since I believe in lots and lots of pucks for practice, it’s rather heavy. I
toss my shoulder bag briefcase over one shoulder. Overtop goes my skate bag. I
wrap two fingers around the suction-cup rink board and lug the puck basket with
the other hand. My stick is held by a spare index finger that is not being used
on the basket handle. This is more exercise than I’d bargained for—or
remembered.

The boys need
to do a pre-ice warm up I designed. I pop into the dressing room to hustle them
out. A trainer is supposed to watch them, but he’s a tad late. Besides, he doesn’t
really know the exercises nor the techniques required. So I follow the kids to
the back of the building, outside in a deserted part of the parking lot. I demo
the key exercises. I note to myself I haven’t actually done these exercises in
a couple of decades. Seems I can neither lunge nor jump like I used to. Better
demo really slowly. Like, really.

We’re on the
ice. The kids are good at understanding my diagrams. That’s because I’m
drawing them as if I’m being evaluated. They start a drill and I catch
techniques which aren’t strong. Need to demo these, too. Here’s how to do a
tight turn; a sculling technique; a snap shot; a reverse turn; reception of a
backhand pass. They now do them better though some have pretty clear
deficiencies. I have three fellows assisting me and one of us is going to have
to work on these with those kids.

At the end,
child labour deals with carrying the puck basket right to my car. The next
morning, my knees are sore. Never happened in junior. I wonder why.

]]>Wed, 17 Sep 2014 14:21:38 -0400/blog/redirect?id=12286

Here’s a
simple hockey math question.

If you put 15
kids on the ice with 4 coaches, the ratio of kids to coaches is (circle all that
apply):

It’s only a
trick question if you see player to coach ratios as simply a matter of
mathematics. It isn’t of course, though most people would see it that way. If a
team or hockey program has lots of people on the ice, then it must be doing
something right, right?

I never thought
so. Just look at these two recent examples of hockey schools.

Example 1: A
summer program has about 30 kids on the ice. They’re doing skating exercises
in waves up and down the rink. A few young guys, probably junior players, are
directing the kids where to go and what to do. There’s no error correction.
Meanwhile, standing on the side boards near centre ice is the head instructor, a
former NHLer, along with two other young fellows. They’re
chatting.

I counted 8 on-ice personnel for a ratio of 30:8 or nearly 4:1. Yet not one instructor gave
an iota of feedback or assistance, apart from directing kids on how to do the
drill properly.

Example 2:
Another summer program, this time in a smaller rink whose size is perfect for
kids to play. There are 15 in the camp with 4 instructors (as in the question at
the outset). The head guy has a good rapport with the kids. They run them
through a few drills, the last of which involves a pylon course. Each child must
skate to a pylon, stop, then go across to another, for five stops in all. But
the pylons are set diagonally across from each other so that when the child
looks up to go to the next one, they need to search a bit.

Besides, the
kids don’t stop well. Most just glide by. At no time during this drill did any
of the instructors, including the lead fellow, stop them or correct them. They
just carried on, perfecting their poor techniques.

In both
examples though, there were plenty of opportunities and more than enough staff
to provide nearly every skater with some constructive help. Perhaps the ratio
was a sales feature of the camp. And let’s face it, if you were told your
child’s grade four class would have not one, but three teachers, you’d be
tickled. More help for your child more often from trained
professionals.

Therein lies
the difference. These two hockey schools had no trained professionals. Even the
ex-pro was an ex-player, not a trained hockey teacher. The rest were young
people with little or no teaching experience and getting no guidance or
mentoring from those around them.

In short, be
wary of advertised low ratios.

]]>Fri, 12 Sep 2014 11:29:11 -0400/blog/redirect?id=12230

If you’re a
hockey coach in Canada this season at any amateur level, you will notice we are
welcoming you with some new features. First, I will take questions from the
room.

“Richard,
I’ve coached kids for 22 years. Will these affect me? I’m tired of
spinning.”

“Yes, they
will. I understand your wish to not spin any more. But now you’ll spin
differently.”

“I’m a new
coach, Richard. You’re scaring me. How much spinning will there
be?”

“Not to
worry, rookie. Once you get past the initial spins, it’s downhill. Until 5
years from now…”

“What happens
in 5 years?”

“You get to
re-spin. I’ll explain later.”

“Hey man,
I’m coaching junior A. I played minor pro and CIS and this is sort of my job,
along with some reno work I do. I have no interest in spinning classes or any
kind of classes.”

“I guess
trying to sell you on the worth of learning the art of coaching won’t really
go anywhere. In that case, Hockey Canada made the rules. Sorry.”

To begin, all
head coaches at all levels will need to be certified. Your certification level
will depend on the age group and level you coach. Naturally, the more
competitive level you’re at, the higher the clinic level you’ll need. There
is no more “grandfathering” due to playing or other coaching experience.
Even if you have, um, a very friendly relationship with a board member, you
can’t escape needing to attend a Development 1 or High Performance 1 clinic.
Good news is, you’ll leave smarter.

Now if you’re
an assistant coach, you could be entirely off the hook. Hockey Canada has only
made it a “strong recommendation” that assistants be certified. Some
branches are making it compulsory or easing people into it by having, say, one
assistant per team with accreditation. This spin cycle won’t be too taxing,
especially if you feel strongly that kids shouldn’t need qualified coaching
staffs.

Next, every coach—every coach!—will need to spin through a checking clinic. It will
include both off-ice and on-ice portions and will instruct everyone on how to
progressively teach checking either with or without the body checking part,
depending on the age group. This won’t stop Cro-Magnon-style coaches from
counting hits in games as a tool to, well, I dunno what. But now at least
they’ll have a clue about how to teach it, even if they can’t be bothered.
Legal advice for such people is not included in the clinic.

The final spin
is about certification maintenance points. Every coach dealing with competitive
level teams will need to accumulate points over a five-year period to re-cycle
themselves as qualified coaches. They’ll be able to do it in a number of ways.
However it will mean a bit of new spinning from time to time.

Any further
questions…?

]]>Thu, 04 Sep 2014 14:06:57 -0400/blog/redirect?id=12218

“Let’s
start at the very beginning,

A very good
place to start...”

- from
The Sound of Music

I’m writing
this because I have permission to do it.

It wasn’t my
intention to take my coaching in a different direction with a bantam team, just
to provide grist for this blog. In fact, it was an afterthought. Still, I
wasn’t going to do it if the local association president felt it
inappropriate. So when I asked him if I could occasionally blog here about my
adventure with the team, he said sure.

As I pointed
out a couple of weeks ago on this site, I was getting stale as a coach. Too many
years in junior and with elite minor teams or even as a mentor had pulled me
away from where coaching needs to be. A couple of years ago, a colleague who is
a pretty active and effective mentor in a local minor association where his boy
plays house league offered up a challenge.

We yak plenty
about our experiences in elite hockey, which are all well and good, he said. And
we also too often slag the better coaches for running off with elite teams
rather than offering their skills to the younger or lower levels. How about we
not do that, he suggested. How about some of us work with the kids who perhaps
need the expertise the most? I’d not paid it much heed till a couple of months
ago. And here I am.

The bantam
team’s level is called rep B in the Ottawa region, an entry level competitive
program that has house leagues “beneath” it in a relatively small
association of about 400 players. The team feeds into a large AA program which
itself leads to the elite AAA. Coincidentally, my friend mentioned above coaches
the bantam AAA club.

There’s been
debate locally about whether or not this association has enough players to stock
competitive teams. Perhaps the answer lies in numbers. There will be no rep B
atom team this year. Not enough interest. The pee wees will have enough players
to stock a roster. My bantam group, as of last week, had less than 20 registered
for tryouts. The midgets stood at nine. None of the teams historically have had
much success since the rep B program started a few years ago. Just not enough
skilled players to feed into it, no real development plan for either players or
coaches, and questionable interest from parents and board members.

But my role as
coach isn’t to address these issues and frankly, I’m not interested in being
brought into the debate, though I’ve been asked. I just want to coach the kids
and perhaps offer them something they’ve not seen before.

Judging from
the initial parents meeting last week, I suspect they have an inkling that
surprises are in store.

]]>Fri, 29 Aug 2014 13:09:04 -0400/blog/redirect?id=12133

An instructor stood around the crease area with about 12 youngsters
lined up on the goal line facing him. He had a couple of young
assistants, likely current junior players. So certainly the
teacher:pupil ratio was pretty good.

But a proper ratio
is only of value if actual teaching and feedback take place. There was
little of either. The head fellow, a man in perhaps his 40s who assists
with a local junior club, told the kids what to do, gave a brief demo,
and sent them on their way towards the centre red line. They
stopped—sort of—and turned back, repeating the skill. The head
instructor never left his spot. His assistants dealt more with guiding
the kids to where they had to go.

Everyone was pleasant
and positive, certainly a plus. But this was a summer hockey school and
one would think there’d be even a modicum of proper instruction and
decent progressions. Nope.

The session reminded me of a
hockey school I worked at in Montreal in the 1970s. A number of the
Montreal Canadiens “taught” at it while a few of us served as those same
young guys I just described. One morning, Rejean Houle, a phenomenal
skater, ran a session on crossovers. There were about 35 kids on the
ice. He lined them up on a goal line and stood in the slot. In broken
English, he told the kids what he wanted them to do, which was to stand
facing one direction and do side crossovers all the way to centre
ice—like this. . . And he proceeded to demonstrate with the fastest
footwork I’d ever seen. His skates crossed and crossed with nary a
technical error till centre where he stopped, looked at the kids, and
bellowed, “Then come back,” and repeated the performance. He actually
left deep divots in the ice.

So the kids tried to copy
him. It was like watching a bunch of drunks stagger out of a bar at 3
am. Some fell right away; some took a few steps and fell; some went
slowly to avoid falling, but eventually toppled over anyway. The
assistants - me and the others - did our best to assist them but we were
overwhelmed because nothing had actually been taught. Reggie—yes, we
got to call him Reggie—just smiled and slapped his stick to encourage
the kids to go faster.

Fast forward and a similar
approach still happens. You can’t expect kids to either learn or improve
without proper progressions and effective feedback. We know that from
the school system, even with its faults. How come hockey instructors
haven’t figured it out?

]]>Fri, 22 Aug 2014 09:33:25 -0400/blog/redirect?id=12131

Time to hit the
reset button.

After a number
of years working with junior and elite minor teams, I’ve chosen to sort of go
back to my roots. This season, I’ll be coaching a community-level competitive
bantam team. It’s an age group I’ve not coached in 20 years and a level I
haven’t done since my Montreal coaching days of the 70s. That’s a long time.
I wonder how much rust has decayed my brain since then.

Like many of us
who teach the national coaching program or act as mentors, I’ve done my share
of advising. I stand before groups of coaches (and association boards) fairly
frequently and provide assistance or guidance on an array of coaching topics.
The audiences are nearly always non-elite coaches. But even when I’ve worked
with elite clubs or teams, I had the credibility chops, so to speak, since I
myself had done a fair amount of elite level coaching.

But it always
bothered me that my experiences in elite hockey could be translated easily by
those not coaching at the higher levels. Do as I say, seemed to be the mantra.
You should be able to handle this or that in practice, teach these skills or
tactics, all with a few basic principles in mind. This from a fellow who for
decades had been coaching players with strong fundamental skills and, mostly, a
hunger to improve and win.

When I reflect
on my earliest coaching years, it wasn’t that way at all. Those kids didn’t
have a lot of skills in their tool box; they had difficulty applying tactical
concepts; and practice time was minimal to cover it all. Plus, expectations were
entirely different. None of those youngsters were going to play at any
appreciable level (though a few somehow did).

The group I’m
taking this season has no history of success, if one measure of success is team
record. For instance, not a single player feeding into this team managed a point
per game scoring rate last season. The leading scorer was more like a point per
game and a half. Offensively challenged, it would seem.

However, I care
about neither and perhaps (rightly or wrongly) that will set me apart from
coaches they’ve either had or seen. Having had a few great titles over the
years and seen players develop to high levels, my objectives are different. I
want this group to be able to say at the end of the year that they had a blast
and learned a lot. Period.

A few
colleagues at elite levels have furrowed their brows when I mention the team
I’ll coach. It’s a natural reaction. I tell them I was losing perspective
both as a coaching instructor and a leader in the game. It was time for me to
look at things through a different lens.

So here I
go...

]]>Mon, 18 Aug 2014 09:28:28 -0400/blog/redirect?id=12112

Let’s say you
happened to see a minor hockey coach behaving like a loon in front of the kids
or parents at a meeting. Not that it has ever happened. But let’s say.
Perhaps the coach has used foul language or made sweeping pejorative remarks.
Whatever the reason, would you call him unprofessional?

And if you did,
would you expect said coach to snap, “I’m a volunteer like everyone else
here.”? In other words, volunteers appear to be protected from society’s
conventions about civility and courtesy because they aren’t paid and thus
should not be held responsible.

What a barrel
of donkey dung.

We tend to
limit the definition of professional to those who are paid or at least to those
in professions where one is expected to be, well, professional. Teachers,
doctors, nurses, administrators—we want them to act professionally. We expect
it. Anything less and our respect for them, and even for the profession,
suffers.

But minor
hockey has no such expectations of either its coaches or its leaders. When was
the last time the term “unprofessional” was used to describe either? Too
often, we set our standards fairly low and all too easily we meet them.

On the coaching
spectrum, the coach of the lowest level of house league player is usually the
least experienced and trained of all. We’ve created a system where our best
coaches wouldn’t dream of stooping to such a level. They want to work with the
best, not the worst. So what we end up with are coaches from whom little is
expected, and not just in player development but also in comportment. Those same
“low level” house league coaches could be lawyers or accountants or business
executives. They are expected to carry themselves “professionally” all day.
Why not in the evening, too?

Can we not then
have professional amateurs? It seems to me that we’ve put too much stock in
the term volunteer and have used it almost as an escape card. Yes, you can
behave poorly or not plan or be disrespectful or even languish in ignorance, but
since you’re a volunteer, we’ll excuse it. What’s more, feel free to
announce that, because you’re a volunteer, striving for competence, let alone
excellence, will be accidental.

Add another
barrel.

In the real
world, the term “professional development” is thrown about to describe extra
training employees get. In hockey, we’ve stayed clear of it because we don’t
want to scare people by thinking a minor hockey coach needs to be
“developed” or, heavens, “professional.”

A pro-am is a
member of the minor hockey leadership group who carries himself with
distinction. He may be coaching a low level recreational team yet he treats the
kids like gold. He plans. He teaches. He sets an example. He acts
professionally.

Really, at the
very least, that’s all we ask of our volunteers coaches.

]]>Fri, 08 Aug 2014 09:58:07 -0400/blog/redirect?id=12108

Youth soccer gets it. Or at least this coach does.

Paul coaches a
team of eight-year-old girls in the Toronto region. On this warm summer
evening, Paul has 18 girls for his 90-minute practice. At first I
wonder how he’ll keep them motivated for so long, hydrated, and avoiding
exhaustion to boot. He divides them into three groups of six with
coloured pinnies. The first 45 minutes is in a space of about 20 x 50
metres. He lines them up along the side of the space. There’s just
enough room for each child to manoeuvre without bumping into a
neighbour. Back and forth go the girls practicing ball skills, their
enthusiasm exceeded only by his own to teach them.

They practice a
variety of skills. At no time does he exhort them to go faster or
better. It’s merely, “Try this; now this.” The one quibble about his
teaching techniques is that his demos are performed facing away from the
girls and often in front of the same group. So only about half the team
is truly able to follow his lead at any one time. Still, they mostly
pay attention. They are eight, after all! The skills are simple. He
doesn’t make them do multiple repeats of each one either. There and back
perhaps twice is sufficient.

They have three water breaks during
this part of the practice with each break taking a couple of minutes.
The girls cavort over to the water bottles, some doing cartwheels or
round-offs. Paul sees this and does one of his own, rather poorly.
Parents offer polite applause for his effort. He responds with a
good-natured sort of curtsie. Who’s having more fun here, him or the
kids? Hard to say.

In the second half, the girls play a 5 vs. 5
mini game across the field. The third team does more skill work on the
side with an assistant coach. In the game, one child is the goalkeeper.
The sixth player is a sub who is rotated in every few minutes. During
the mini game, Paul bounces around the field, encouraging,
congratulating, applauding. Sometimes he stops the play to direct a girl
to look for passing options. “If you’re the striker, where should you
look for the ball?” A girl dribbles in front of her net, is stripped of
the ball and the opposition scores. His reaction? “I like your patience,
but was that the best place to dribble? But you do have great
patience.” Perfect feedback.

It’s less team play instruction than
the principles of team play and the girls eat it up. The three teams
play each other with no scores kept. At the end, they all assist with
the equipment. Ninety minutes has whizzed by. Most importantly, it was
clear the girls had fun and learned.

I’m later told Paul is a phys. ed. teacher. That makes sense. He’s a terrific coach.

]]>Thu, 31 Jul 2014 13:52:12 -0400/blog/redirect?id=12072

Like it or not,
agree with it or not, Hockey Canada’s removal of body checking below bantam
will have a significant impact on coaching. It’s not something that’s been
really discussed much either.

The obvious
reason is because checking has long needed to be seen as a skill to be taught
rather than a component of a player’s personality which he either could
manage or couldn’t. Teach puckhandling? Sure. Agility skating with a puck?
Absolutely. Shooting? Of course. Checking or contact skills? Well, hey, that’s
what the one-on-one drills are supposed to highlight, right?

So a committee
of Hockey Canada people, including a colleague of mine, cobbled together a
collection of terrific videos, melded them with four PowerPoint presentations
(what was life like before PowerPoint?), and added ice instruction. The aim is
simple: what has not been taught as a series of skills by most coaches is now
being completely handed over to them.

This hand-off is not without its risks. The clinic of three- to five-hour length (varies somewhat
depending on how it’s handled by local branches) is literally placing the
entire responsibility of teaching checking skills in the hands of our amateur
coaches. Many have little coaching experience and most have formal training
amounting to not much more than a day or two of certification clinics.
Mentorship remains slapdash in most areas of the country. The flavour of the day
in 1999 has evolved only in edible morsels, not in the delectable chunks
everyone had hoped to swallow whole.

On the other
hand, the status quo clearly wasn’t working. Few actually taught checking in
any way, shape or form. In many areas, coaches hired local ex-elite players to
dash in, spend an hour with a couple of teams, collect a tidy sum, then leave.
The one-off event was usually a collection of drills rather than a detailed
progression of skills. Plus, there was no follow-up and mostly little
distinction made between body contact and body checking, let alone the types of
skills required for each.

At least now,
as a formal Hockey Canada event, only trained and qualified instructors will
lead the way. As well, there will be a formal and vitally important link between
the ice session and the off-ice presentations which will offer more education
than coaches have ever before received.

Still, those of
us who will teach these programs wonder about what happens after coaches attend
the new clinics. Then, too, how is that different from any other skill
instructions coaches have had in certification clinics? Who will do the follow-up?

Are we then
saying that once we’ve put coaches through these clinics, nothing more need be
taught?

]]>Thu, 24 Jul 2014 09:45:59 -0400/blog/redirect?id=12040

You coach an
elite minor or junior hockey team. It takes up about 15 hours or more of
your time each week. Perhaps you have some expenses paid and you may
even get a few
bucks from the club or association. Not enough to retire on, but it
certainly
keeps your skates sharpened.

You figure that
of the many ways you can improve yourself as a coach, one is to attend a
coaching seminar featuring major junior, CIS or NHL coaches. Off you go, laden
with blank drill diagrams and notepads.

The
presentations are interesting, sometimes stimulating, mostly insightful, but
consistently have the same theme: here’s what we do and why. As these
experienced coaches talk, you wonder how on earth you could ever implement any
of their content in your situation. Occasionally you pick out a drill that, with
some tweaking, your team might try. A couple of presentations contain tips on
what you need to look for in setting up that umbrella power play or forechecking
with pressure.

But no matter
what these coaches say or show, you can’t escape the fact they’re on the ice
daily, sometimes with nearly unlimited access. They can spend an entire session
on power play breakouts and another one on improving their defencemen’s
agility. Their practice scenarios are as different from yours as night and
day.

At the seminar
they diagram and explain options for penalty killing which are altered according
to whom they play and even when. Sometimes a 1st period PK is not the same as
the 3rd period one. These are called adjustments, honed between periods or
during TV timeouts. Certainly those teams are not locked into having games
completed within a specific timeframe.

So you ask
yourself two questions: what have I learned? what are my
“takeaways”?

You learned and
took away:

the team play
approach of minor or entry level junior hockey expands greatly at the higher
levels

the higher
you go, the more you need to understand about how to communicate a message, not
just the message itself

there’s a
huge emphasis at the upper levels on skill and the ability to think, which both
impact on your need to develop these in kids

all coaches
steal then adapt for their situations

upper level
coaches work hard in order to get positive results, then risk getting fired
because winning is the be-all and end-all. (Thankfully, you’re not in that
position - or shouldn’t be.)

drill
ideas

some cool
ways to do a PP, PK or breakout, one of which your team may be able to
try

Presenters’
content may not have been directly applicable. But that doesn’t mean you
can’t learn something from attending such sessions.

]]>Thu, 17 Jul 2014 14:29:54 -0400/blog/redirect?id=12014

Students used
to ask me frequently why reading the prescribed novel for a course was
necessary. It was a question that often left me stumped. I could have taken
the parental approach and answered, “Because.” But that was inadequate and
not really fair.

No, one book
wasn’t going to make them smarter. That’s not what reading is supposed to
do. Well, certainly not in and of itself. And especially not if your course
tells you exactly which book you need to read then parse right down to its base
elements.

So when High
Performance 1 coaches are asked to read a couple of books on coaching or
leadership then review them as part of their written assignment, the resulting
queries are inevitable. Is this book good enough? What about the life story of
X? Can I use this 45-page compendium of inspiring quotes? How about this manual
on the teaching of skating?

It’s a
particularly interesting challenge when many of the younger generation of
coaches admit they don’t read much, let alone books. So those of us who teach such
seminars and need to assess coaches’ work face a bit of a dilemma. Are we
forcing coaches into the same corner students had in high school, which is to
read an actual book, against what their habits and interests may be? Or are we
legitimately raising the expectations bar to develop elite coaches?

I say raise the
bar and keep it high. The reading and reviews of two books is not onerous and
may never be repeated in that coach’s lifetime. In fact, it may open some
doors to coaches who didn’t know there even was a treasure trove of great
literature about leadership and coaching, and little of it having to do with
hockey.

An elite coach—not just a coach of elite players—never stops learning and explores all
avenues to improve their skills and development. Books are merely one means of
doing so, which is why I believe it’s a vital component of the HP 1’s final
assessment.

Our group
leaders at the seminar compiled a lengthy list of appropriate books. Even with
that, some coaches inquired about works which weren’t really what the exercise
was meant to do. We had to tell them that one should be able to complete a book
about coaching or leadership and gain some further understanding about the
breadth and depth of their own roles and how they can improve themselves as
elite coaches.

The aim isn’t
to make elite coaches smarter, no more so than the high school student forced to
read a novel. But we don’t know what’s behind closed doors until we open
them.

]]>Tue, 15 Jul 2014 12:43:58 -0400/blog/redirect?id=11996

On the first
night of Hockey Eastern Ontario’s High Performance 1 seminar, we invited four
former pro players and one current junior A coach (who played minor pro) to a
panel discussion about developing the elite player.

One could argue
that even recently retired pros are still at least two decades past their
formative minor hockey years. Much has changed in the game and society since
they were little gaffers. Can their points be relevant today?

I’ve never
been one to equate playing ability to coaching ability. In my experience, I’ve
seen few former great players at any level who, by virtue of their playing,
became terrific minor hockey coaches. The skill sets are just too different.
Nevertheless, their experiences and understanding of what separates a kid who
makes it from one who doesn’t are instructive and informative. They do know
what it takes to climb the ladder and have seen dozens of kids they played with
not make it to the first rung, let alone the top. Most are appreciative of the
talent they had, though they know full well it took more than just talent to get
them to pro hockey.

Our panel
included three fellows with a combined over 2500 NHL games played. A fourth
played in the AHL and was an NHL executive while the junior coach was once a
minor pro player himself. All agreed that the teaching of skills was central to
the future success of elite kids. They’d be taught systems later. As one guy
pointed out, by the time they hit the pros, they’ve seen every system ever
devised. But their ability to think, to react, and then to have the skill to
implement is another matter altogether.

But what was
particularly interesting was the reaction to the very first question posed: is
there a difference between an elite coach and a coach of elite kids? It provoked
a bit of silence. As moderator, I was asked to repeat the question. These had
been, after all, elite players themselves. Did they achieve their successes
regardless of their coaches?

One ex-NHLer
then nailed the answer. You can have an elite coach of house league kids, he
said. Yet much of what he learned, he later added, came from playing on the
outdoor rinks, a virtually lost activity these days.

With the
exception of one fellow who remembered his major junior coach’s repeated handful
of drills, none of the panel members mentioned recalling particular drills or
modes of training. What stood out for them was that the game was always
fun.

These were
important messages for the audience of 50 coaches working to obtain this
important level of certification. What will they have taken from such dialogues?
Will they become elite coaches?

]]>Thu, 03 Jul 2014 09:21:05 -0400/blog/redirect?id=10988

Last week I
addressed issue 1: The new mandatory High Performance 1 clinics will paint
bantam AAA and junior A coaches with the same broad stroke brush.

But here’s
another issue. Under the new Hockey Canada/Coaching Association of Canada, a
coach will now attend the certification clinic that is applicable to the group
he’s coaching. Content for clinics then is geared towards that group. For
instance, at these new HP 1 seminars, it’s expected presentations address the
needs of coaches dealing with elite players. Mostly, this is true. Though again,
there’s a pretty strong argument against giving minor coaches who deal with
12- to 16-year-olds the same content and expectations as junior A coaches whose
players are a couple of sniffs from pro hockey.

What we’re
seeing, however, is a large number of coaches at AAA and junior levels with no
coaching backgrounds at all taking over teams merely on the foundation of their
playing experiences. All they know is what they learned and how they learned it.
The actual art of coaching becomes on-the-job training.

This is not to
say they should first pay their dues with house league teams. The very notion of
“paying their dues” isn’t what it’s about. The objective has to be to
learn how to coach. So what we’re doing is tossing these new coaches into an
abyss inhabited by difficult parents, association leaders with little if any
coaching experience themselves, or team owners who now have new toys and perhaps
even vehicles for their own kids to play in. This is not a situation that sets
them up for success, let alone enjoyable new coaching experiences.

It doesn’t
make it easy for the kids either. Many are left to play for coaches who just
don’t have the experience and even the know-how to understand the nuances of
today’s youth. The game changes, the kids change, and how we teach it changes
as we learn more about what effective teaching and coaching can
provide.

In a way, I
feel a bit sorry for these coaches. With the best of intentions, they take over
teams where expectations automatically rise simply by virtue of their playing
backgrounds. The “Wow” factor (as in, “Wow, he was a pro.”) wears thin
when their teams don’t meet expectations, regardless of how realistic they may
be.

The question
now becomes, how do we prepare these new coaches so they are able to learn the
best possible and most up-to-date coaching techniques? When we vault them
directly into the kind of coaching clinic we now have, we don’t give them an
opportunity to learn fundamental coaching skills. It’s tantamount to having a
bestselling novelist teach grade 9s how to write a 500-word essay without the
students being taught the ingredients of a good essay and the role of proper
grammar. Parents would find such an approach unacceptable.

Not so in
hockey.

]]>Wed, 16 Jul 2014 15:24:39 -0400/blog/redirect?id=10966

Across Canada
this summer, various Hockey Canada branches will host High Performance 1
coaching seminars. Those of us who’ve taught the national coaching program for
a few years have mixed feelings about these particular clinics.

It’s not
because they’re not worthwhile. They are. Very much so. Coaches are exposed to
a variety of expert speakers and, while working in groups, share ideas on a
range of coaching topics. The five-day (or so) clinic is exhausting and an
immersion in the game at a level well above what most attendees have ever
experienced. They are challenged both during the seminar and after in the
written assignment and field evaluations to see how much there is to coaching
high performance athletes.

First some
background. Hockey Canada, in conjunction with the Coaching Association of
Canada (CAC), instituted new rules in 2013 for the training and certification of
coaches at every level and age group of amateur hockey. Those who are head
coaches of AAA minor teams or tier 2 junior A clubs must hold High Performance 1
certification. Hence the veritable flood of clinics this summer since minor AAA
coaches have to be certified by the 2015-16 season and junior A coaches the year
after.

There are two
issues surrounding the seminars. I’ve taught at many of these, chaired a few,
and am about to chair the one in Ottawa. We will face many of the same problems
we’ve always faced in these specialized clinics with the exception that, unlike
bygone days, only those coaching elite teams are admitted.

First, the
content remains very much a one-size-fits-all approach. Clinic presentations and
group work sessions are outlined by Hockey Canada and the CAC. This serves as
the one common denominator that coaches across the country will see. So in that
regard, at least we’ll be able to say that whether you’re in Nova Scotia or
Saskatchewan, your HP 1 is pretty much the same. However, there will be pee wee
and bantam AAA coaches in the same room as junior A coaches. In fact, at most
seminars, there’s usually a smattering of major junior, CIS or European
coaches as well.

This means,
too, that amateur coaches spending 10 to 15 hours per week with 12- to 14-year olds are
receiving similar content as those whose full-time jobs are to coach young
adults. It’s tantamount to saying we’ll offer the same English curriculum
guidelines to those teaching grade 9s as second year university students. It
doesn’t make much sense. The challenge then for those organizing these
seminars is to try to get speakers to tailor their talks to the audience. Not so
easy when speakers are experienced professionals with little connection any more
(or ever) with minor hockey.

As to the
second issue, I’ll share it with you next week.

(HEO’s HP 1
seminar runs June 20-22 and July 4-6)

]]>Thu, 19 Jun 2014 09:24:50 -0400/blog/redirect?id=10860

Do elite
coaches plan?

While serving
as the mentor for a minor hockey association’s competitive teams, I tried to
get the coaches to understand the importance of even rudimentary planning. Their
kids were playing on the highest level teams in the region at the time. There
were certain expectations and responsibilities that came with the
territory.

I asked them to
provide me yearly plans broken into segments. The segments could be as simple as
early, mid and late season or as complex as bi-weekly. Within the segments they
had to provide overall objectives and a few specific ones. It wasn’t meant to
be an onerous task but I suppose that’s in the eyes of the beholder. Most saw
it as unnecessary and time-consuming paperwork.

This is where
we differed. I saw planning as one of the foundations an elite coach, or at
least the coach of elite kids, needed to have to stay on the right path. The
alternative would have been for them to plan week to week, preparing practices
and off-ice sessions as game results warranted. In other words, performance
would drive the machine, not development.

Did they
provide me plans? Most did but largely because the association executive had my
back and insisted on this kind of coach training and development. I got a
dog’s breakfast of segment plans. Most were barely passable, dashed off in
probably an hour or so. I didn’t have an issue with this approach though. It
still meant the coach had to think. I wasn’t there to grade their work but
rather to see they were applying even a modicum of thought to the
season.

A few years
later, one of those coaches was again in my mentorship group with a different
association. When I broached the topic of planning, he stated outright he would
not do any “paperwork.” (It should be noted he’s attending a High
Performance 1 seminar this summer whose assessment requirements include a
considerable amount of “paperwork.”)

There are lots
of cute pithy statements about planning which are meant to get us all to nod our
heads in unanimous agreement.

“If you fail
to plan, you plan to fail.” (a paraphrase of Benjamin Franklin’s
“By failing to prepare, you are preparing to
fail.”)

“If you don’t know where you’re going,
any road can take you there.” (from Lewis Carroll’s Alice in
Wonderland)

Or Yogi Berra’s version: “If you don't
know where you are going, you'll end up someplace else.”

Personally, I like Mike Tyson’s description
of planning. “Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the
face.”

If our so-called elite minor hockey coaches
were to listen to the elite coaches at higher levels or other sports, they’d
be surprised at how much planning goes into a proper training
program.

Indeed, plans are live documents, just like
the kids we coach. But you need something to deal with the complexities of elite
athletes.

]]>Thu, 12 Jun 2014 09:16:14 -0400/blog/redirect?id=9876

The obvious answer is someone who coaches in the NHL, Europe, major
junior or college. Or perhaps an elite coach is simply anyone who gets
paid. If you’re paid to do a job, you must be qualified and capable,
right? After all, no one has ever come across incompetent teachers,
carpenters, or accountants.

That we pay a person to do a task
should not be the benchmark. So why people equate paying a salary or
honourarium with quality is a mystery. Likely it’s the same mentality
that equates free with junk. If we don’t affix a value to a commodity or
task, can it still be worth something?

In the case of minor
hockey coaches, it had better be. Very few get much more than some
expenses covered by their teams. In the case of elite teams, say, at the
AAA level, a coaching staff might be given $10-$15,000. It’s not much
when you consider the amount of time spent with these players. Split
among a staff of four coaches, it’s between $2,500 and $3,750 per season
for four or five nights weekly of hockey and this is to cover travel
and sundry expenses, too. Plus tournaments. Plus training camp.

But
that doesn’t make them elite. Is someone an elite coach because he
coaches the best kids? Or is he merely the coach of elite kids? It’s not
a trivial difference because far too often coaches will call themselves
elite simply due to their working with the best. Is it not possible
though for a coach to be elite while coaching house league kids?

Consider
Barry (not his real name), a fellow who’d been coaching in his local
association for about 15 years. His own kids had long since left the
minor ranks and Barry continued to coach because he loved it. He took
younger kids and older ones, competitive teams and house league teams.
It didn’t matter to him whether the kids were good or not. His view was
that a coach is there to make them better, regardless of their starting
points.

He was innovative, creative, and demanding. His kids
learned not just the game but how to be members of a team. He worked at
improving his coaching skills. He read about coaching and went to extra
clinic sessions. He asked questions. He searched for ways to implement
new techniques. Barry was an elite coach. If he’d applied for a AAA
team, the highest level in his region, he’d have never been given an
interview. Why? He’d never coached elite players himself nor did he have
the pedigree of having been a former junior or pro player.

Yet
he would have been exactly the type of person in AAA who would leave no
stone unturned in searching for ways to coach such kids.

So this
week’s title is intriguing as it will be one posed soon to coaches at a
High Performance 1 coaching seminar in Ottawa in late June.

]]>Thu, 05 Jun 2014 09:36:54 -0400/blog/redirect?id=9852

I recently bought a new car. Don't go away. This was how a chance meeting and some positive vibes came about.

I'm
filling it up one afternoon when I notice the car at an adjacent pump
is identical to mine, only a different colour. The driver gets out and I
sort of recognize him. You know, one of those faces you recall from
rinks past but can't quite place where or when.

He asks me how I
like the car and we compare what attracted us to it. Then he adds he
remembers me from hockey. Seems I taught his son. He tells me his name
and I instantly recall his boy as a lad of about 12 at hockey school.
Well, he says, Terry (not his real name) went on to junior A, which I
knew. And now he's coaching.

I guessed Terry's age within a year.
So naturally I asked what's he coaching. A competitive atom team, the
dad replies. To which I couldn't help but smile.

I don't know
what kind of a young man Terry became except that as a youngster he was a
darn fine kid, eminently teachable, with lots of ability. That he had
now decided to pursue the game as a coach made my heart jump a bit.

What
I’ve seen lately is how many young former players want to give back to
the game, or just stay in it, and so they serve as assistants in junior.
When asked, I always counsel otherwise. Junior is not where you learn
how to coach.

You're still too close to the age group and the
memories of how and what you learned don't provide you the opportunity
to grow as a coach. You become instantly stale by reverting to the same
ol' same ol'. If you really want to coach, if you really want to
discover how to teach and guide kids, deal with parents, learn rules and
regs, and take on true responsibility, go back to minor. Better, get
your own team. Best, make it a house league team.

Not much in
coaching grounds someone better and provides a perspective of the impact
of good coaching than being with a bunch of kids who just aren't very
good.

This is where the Young Guns fresh out of the playing ranks
ought to be recruited to coach. Too often I see associations content
with cajoling some poor parent into heading up a team rather than going
after some of the local youths. Too young? Perhaps. That's where
mentoring plays such an important role. That and teaming up a young
coach with a couple of parents who will be supportive and offer the
wisdom of parenthood.

As for Terry, I'm glad he's coaching and
didn't just call his former junior team to do something. Will he get
some good help? I hope so. We need to keep these rookies in our sights.
Realistically, until careers and/or families come along, coaching is one
thing they'll have time for. Maybe, years from now, his experiences
with the atom team will form the foundation of what he does with his own
child's team.

]]>Thu, 29 May 2014 09:35:58 -0400/blog/redirect?id=9836

If you splice together all the best kids in an age group, you’re
likely going to have a pretty strong group. Whether or not they gel into
a formidable team is quite another matter. We’ve seen plenty of
all-star teams at even the highest elite levels not succeed despite
having the finest talent at their beck and call.

Or, as the late U.S. Olympic gold medal coach Herb Brooks implored in
1980, “I don’t want the best players. I want the right players.”

Picking a group of the best and trying to mould them into a single
unit for a short-term event may be toying with the nature vs. nurture
debate a little bit. We did that here in Ottawa recently when we cobbled
together our regional under-14 team for the first step in the Hockey
Canada Program of Excellence. The team was to play in a tournament and
the coaches were to assess and teach through six practices and then see
how the boys did.

First the result. The team won its four tournament games 4-0, 3-0,
7-1, and 8-1. In only two of the games were we tested, so one could make
a case that the opposition was weak. We taught virtually no team or
group tactical play. Nearly everything was in 2s and 3s with about an
even split between no resistance and some resistance activities.

What was interesting though had to do not with the results but who
stood out. Four of the absolute top kids did not participate. Three
would be out of town for parts of the event with their spring teams and
one chose not to participate because the family doesn’t believe in
spring hockey (the father is an ex-NHL player).

The kids who took their places were not of the same calibre and
likely would not have been with us otherwise. Yet, they played terrific,
confident hockey.

Was it because this was their chance to shine? Had they been buried
on weak teams and now, playing with top players, they were pulled up to a
different skill level? Had the coaching approach of no team play,
emotional control, game readiness, and focus on individual skill and
support played a role?

Using nine forwards and six defenceman, lines and pairings were
constructed according to on-ice personae, not stats. Would kid A who is
quiet and laid back be able to play with kid B who likes to jump into
the play? It wasn’t until the fourth game when these were all jumbled a
bit to give the kids chances to play with others.

While the players and parents expressed great appreciation for the
quality of the staff, the coaches admitted a bit of surprise at which
individuals elevated their games, and it wasn’t the stars.

Makes you think.

]]>Fri, 23 May 2014 14:59:37 -0400/blog/redirect?id=9792

Pardon me, but I was in rinks lately.

I was recently working with our regional under-14 team in preparation
for a tournament. It’s the first step in the identification process for the
national Program of Excellence. Please excuse this poor soul who continues to
stand by the notion that kids should be doing something other than hockey in the
off-season. But to launch the process, we had to go after the season.

Anyway, there I was, in the parking lot on a sunny May evening,
waiting for the boys to be picked up by their parents. All I could think of was
how much I wanted to do something non-hockey once the tournament was done (we
had just four weeks with the team). Our trainer was with me and we watched a
stream of young kids dragging their bags into the rink for whatever ice session
their parents had signed them up for.

“These kids need a break,” said the trainer. “They should be
playing soccer or something.”

Me, too. Except for the soccer part. That heyday came and went
quickly on a school team which managed a single goal all season. Yours truly had
more ball touches in a single game warm-up than in the entire season. The point
is, though, I’m a tired coach. Though rejuvenated by a terrific group of U-14s,
when the tournament ended on Sunday afternoon (undefeated with only two goals
against in four games), I was ready for a break. My brain got its work out for
eight months and now it needs a rest. Training camp, practices, games, teaching
coaching clinics, meetings, emails, phone calls, planning for next season. . . Hold
! Desist! So I can’t imagine what it must be like for a young’un.

My off-season plan takes shape July 7, the day after the High
Performance 1 coaching seminar we’re hosting is over. I will not watch game
tapes or Youtube videos of skills instruction unless they’re
bloopers.

I will keep my drills and practice plans from this season in the
unkempt pile in my steady, to be lovingly filed in the summer.

Meeting minutes, notes, budget reports, line-ups and other minutiae of
the year are not to be touched until I have an adult beverage in one hand and
I’m on my deck in shorts and a sunhat.

I will stuff my skate bag and sticks in a corner of the garage and
let them collect cobwebs until August.

I promise not to read a hockey book. Not one. By anyone. Mysteries?
Sure. Biographies? OK. I may even pick up the copy of Don Quixote I bought last
summer but didn’t get around to starting. Why? Well, why not?

Like the kids, coaches or coach-like beasts such as myself need a
clean break from the game for awhile. We owe it to ourselves and, once
re-energized for a new season, to whoever our teams will be.

]]>Thu, 15 May 2014 09:46:03 -0400/blog/redirect?id=9750

Out my way, one minor association’s rulebook states that if a coach uses an ineligible player, the coach will receive an automatic 5-game suspension.

We can only guess why the rule was created. Somewhere, sometime, a coach chose to grab a kid from a nearby team for a game. Likely the kid was a decent player. Probably, too, he was not affiliated with the team he was called to. Maybe he was a neighbour or a nephew. Maybe it was happening often and teams were complaining. As a result, an administrator figured a slam on the culprit coach would discourage future abuses.

All rules can be appealed. One reason for doing so, according to this particular body’s constitution, is if the penalty is too harsh. However there’s no judgement coming into play here. There’s no sliding scale of justice, as one would get in civilized society, where the coach could be reprimanded or dealt one game, two or even the full five. Even if you burglarize a house, there’s an array of punitive measures, including restorative justice. Not so in minor hockey.

Now consider Fred, a house league coach in this association. He was called out of town at the last minute to deal with a gravely ill relative and left his assistant in charge. The team played a game during Fred’s absence and the assistant used a player who was not on the affiliation list. When Fred returned, unaware of what had happened, he was charged with the five-game suspension. No board member would even consider hearing his explanation. You should be aware of the rules, he was told. Please note the team’s season is 28 games long.

Fred is seriously reconsidering his wish to coach again.

Then there was Sebastian who was coaching his son’s novice (age 7) house “C” team. He’d never coached before but had helped out the previous year with his boy’s Initiation Program group. He was short players for a game and elected to call a neighbour’s son who was a year younger and in the IP. He’d never been told about rules or affiliation or that IP kids were not “on cards.” So he used the child in a game.

His association, a different one, suspended Seb for one game for using an ineligible player. He had, but knew nothing of the rules and tried to explain this. No one listened. He quit coaching at the end of the season.

In a mad, often nonsensical and entirely illogical dash to punish transgressors of hockey’s rules, people are wondering why bother. Of course we need rules. Like society’s laws, they exist to protect against the small minority who don’t want to abide by what is right. But in that net we inadvertently catch then punish those who meant no harm. To what end?

]]>Fri, 09 May 2014 12:13:45 -0400/blog/redirect?id=9733

Don Cherry said on Hockey Night in Canada that it was "a money
grab."

My co-host on our TSN 1200 radio show, Grassroots: The Minor Hockey Show, offered that a nutbar parent will always be a nutbar parent.

So here's a question that goes to the heart of the issue: who gets
more abuse, officials or coaches? My vote is coaches, but then I have a
bias.

Perhaps abuse isn't the right word. What coaches get is often more
subtle. Call it adult-to-adult bullying, overt (and frequently not-so-overt)
criticism, second-guessing, shouting from the stands, eyeballing at the
glass. . . coaches bear the brunt of ongoing and consistent parental angst and
sometimes anger. For officials, it's a result of the occasional call or missed
one. For coaches, though, entire games, practices and seasons can be deemed
"misses."

I know of one competitive level peewee coach whose team’s parents
were upset he wasn’t using his best forwards on every power play (which was
about three times a game). I don’t have to mention which parents were beefing.
Keep in mind he only had nine forwards. After one playoff game, a parent with a
background in pro hockey came to him. Paraphrasing: You know I support you,
coach, but. To which the coach replied, “If you support me, then why are you
here to complain about power play units in peewee hockey?” The parent turned
and left.

So along comes Hockey Canada with an online parent information course
on how to be a well behaved parent. It'll cost about $12 and by next season,
nearly all parents across the country will be forced to take it. No matter the
logistics of one login per household or per parent or however it'll be rolled
out, the notion of needing to show people how to behave around kids is sad on
many levels.

I don't know if Cherry is right. Perhaps someone is
making some bucks
out of it. The reported cost, $12, isn't exorbitant. Of course, when
something
isn't necessary, no price is a bargain. Furthermore, the nutbar parent
may
indeed never change his ways. But we're in a sorry state when we need to
force — force! — parents to take an hour and view an online program to
show them what
constitutes proper comportment around kids in a rink.

Will it work? One argument is that if it stops even a single parent
from going off the rails and driving a coach or official into early retirement,
it’s worth it.

Should we force drivers to take a course on preventing road rage?
What about supermarket shoppers who can’t count and take their 59 items to the
express checkout lane? Should there be a video for them before they get in
line?

Is civility an acquired skill?

]]>Thu, 01 May 2014 14:45:12 -0400/blog/redirect?id=9720

The most exciting minor hockey Annual General Meeting I ever attended was the one in which I lost the presidential election.

Over 50 people attended the AGM that year in the community where I
coached. It was the largest turnout the association had ever seen. I’m
backwardly proud I’d been able to galvanize the community to attend.
Word got out—or rather, I put it out—that I wanted to be president of
the local minor hockey association. Parents and hockey types probably
turned up either to watch me go down in flames or observe me as a
pitiable curiosity.

After the election, the man tasked with tallying votes pulled me
aside. “You lost by six,” he said. Clearly my campaign had faltered
somewhere along the way.

Now, years later, I heave a sigh of relief for the association. It
escaped what surely would have morphed into a leadership vacuum.

As a rule, AGMs don’t produce either the thrill of a hotly contested
election or raging debates. Once over, elected/acclaimed hockey execs
love to boast that people have no right to complain if they didn’t
attend the AGM.

Actually, everyone has the right to complain whenever they wish.
Which they do. Frequently. Hockey boards listen to and act on complaints
because it comes with the territory of trying to improve the game or at
the very least stay the course. Neither is accomplished in a nation of
hockey experts without someone whining.

While the face of minor hockey is the coach, most everything else is
done by the association’s board. These are largely names on a list or
websites, sometimes someone you know, but usually not. They’re the ones
distributing jerseys at tryouts and busily scampering about with
clipboards. Then they vanish, seemingly teleported to an omniscient,
omnipotent vantage point in the clouds.

In fact, the people who run your child’s hockey program and tinker with your money are the ones you need to meet.

Hockey parents are renowned for writing email tomes to these
mysterious program leaders. But frankly I haven’t often seen the same
anonymous bravado at a keyboard displayed in person, backed up with
proper research. There’s a world of difference between expressing
face-to-face dissatisfaction versus in an email or phone call.

Board members, likely ones with something to hide or suffering from a
chronic lack of skills or knowledge, often do find tricks to avoid the
paying customers. I’ve seen some truly devious manoeuvering.

But that shouldn’t stop people from going. It also shouldn’t prevent
any member of the hockey community from being able to step forward and
pose a question or make a point.

That, folks, is not a privilege; it’s your right.

]]>Thu, 24 Apr 2014 13:32:52 -0400/blog/redirect?id=9688

Under only particular circumstances does my body quiver a bit, along
with the hair follicles on my neck. Sometimes I also feel a corner of my
upper lip shimmer and shake. Then the eyes roll a smidge. I become the
classic look of someone about to launch into full sneer. No, it’s not
from something I ate.

All it took was the pronoun “I” coupled with the transitive verb
“won.” When a prospective coach repeatedly proclaims, announces, or
states, “I won that title,” I know he’s not the person for a team.

I’ve seen a host of coaching applications over the years that list
team championships, first place finishes, tournament titles and the
like. What I haven’t seen much though are applications that indicate a
knowledge of how to teach progressively, how to challenge even the
weakest player, or statistically (for lack of any other gauge of
perceived success) how much a team improved over a season, the finish
notwithstanding.

A minor hockey coach whose teams win a lot can be an indicator of
negative as well as positive coaching techniques. Did the teams win
because of shortened benches? Were kids recruited? Did one goalie
playing nearly all the games carry the team? Does the coach regularly
only take teams with the potential to win? Was the focus on team tactics
rather than skill development? Did he just happen to have strong groups
in particular years?

Winning isn’t the enemy nor is it the opposite of development. It
just should not be one of the critical factors in selecting a coach.

What we want for our kids are people interested in developing the
kids, not the CV. If the teams win, bonus. If they compete, terrific. If
they improve, learn and have fun, bingo!

How you find such coaches is only part of the question. The other
part is that associations need to be prepared to develop them. The
recipe isn’t so hard. Find someone who has the interest and enthusiasm.
Toss in a willingness to develop coaching and teaching skills. Add
dollops of passion for the game. Stir, sit back, and enjoy.

The soft skills required to be an effective coach are too often
shunted to the back burner while interviewers and assessors carp about
record, the ability to teach a power play, or whether or not a
prospective coach has the right hockey “chops.” It’s backwards.

Show me someone with even a modicum of hockey playing ability, strong
communication skills with kids, an understanding of what they’re about,
teaching ability that’s ready to be honed, and I’ll show you a terrific
minor hockey coach.

The rest is nearly immaterial. Worth remembering these spring days as coaches are selected for next fall.

]]>Thu, 17 Apr 2014 10:23:22 -0400/blog/redirect?id=9637

In the last two installments, I touched on the ends of the
spectrum: those who have barely, or never, played the game versus the
applicants with extensive playing backgrounds.

You don’t get many of either but you still need to be aware of
what they bring with them. Their toolkits are chock full of an array of
quite different skills, which can be both positive and negative.

Here’s an interesting “for instance.” In his book The Gold Mine Effect, Rasmus
Ankersen describes various elite sports centres around the globe and
posits theories about how they came to produce world and Olympic
champions. Stephen Francis is the coach of a sprint club in Jamaica
where some of the world’s greatest sprinters have developed including
Asafa Powell and Usain Bolt. But Francis himself was not a sprinter at
all. British geography teacher Colm O’Connell had never set foot at an
athletics event, let alone run himself, before moving to Kenya and
becoming the coach of world class middle and long distance runners.

This is not to say we need to scan applicants for the
intangibles they might share with Ankersen’s examples. However, it is
worth noting how many world class athletes developed from coaches who
themselves weren’t anywhere near that level. What they had though were
skills and attitudes towards dealing with people that set them apart.

Another for instance. People tend to place a lot of stock in
minor coaches who are teachers. With good reason, I suppose. Teachers
are trained to deal with exactly the types of issues minor hockey
coaches see all the time, and not many include specific skills or
tactics instruction. Their strengths are in communicating with kids,
understanding how they function, dealing with conflict, assessing skill
levels, to name a few. In my experience, it’s been rare to see a minor
hockey coach, whose daytime life was that of a teacher, not be the kind
of person you want around a group of kids.

There’s one essential group we need to mine to obtain the kinds of coaching our kids need: older adolescents and young adults.

Sometimes I forget that I was just 19 when I began coaching—and
the players were 12. I find myself looking at the few young people who
take teams and wonder what they can possibly offer. Well, aside from
vigour and interest, what did I offer at 19 or into my 20s? I coached my
first junior team at 25. At the time, I was pretty sure I had what it
took. But I had no one to guide, mentor or assist me, so that first
experience was a rocky one.

Good question though, isn’t it? What qualities do we want in our minor coaches?

]]>Thu, 10 Apr 2014 09:18:15 -0400/blog/redirect?id=9621

The obverse of a coach who hasn’t played much is of course one who’s played a lot.

Let’s not dance around a key point here: there are very few coaches
who, having never really played the game, can be effective, let alone
great, coaches. The three mentioned in last week’s blog are anomalies.

A coach has to understand the sport and its conventions. There
needs to be a “feel” for the players’ needs and a true empathy for just
how complex the skills and abilities to play are. It’s analogous to a
teenager first driving a car. The requisite physical skills and
coordination aren’t difficult to learn. If you’ve been in a car and
watched cars, you can figure it out. But the array of decisions, timing
manoeuvres, distractions, and conditions actually make driving a fairly
complex skill.

What then does an experienced former player bring to the coaching table?

Mostly he (and I’ll use the generic “he” for both
genders—apologies, ladies) understands the sport’s conventions. His
experiences allow him to realize what kinds of commitment are required,
what skills lead to successful tactics, and what the realities of the
game are going forward. Let’s keep in mind that any former player who
has gone beyond minor to junior or higher is in a minority. Roughly 80%
of all hockey players do NOT play competitive hockey. Even at the lowest
levels of junior (B, C or D, depending on the region), few make it that
far, which still makes junior hockey elite.

The point is, someone coming from just a junior C playing
career has nevertheless attained a level the vast majority of kids won’t
get to. Will that automatically translate into good coaching? No, of
course not. No more than a Formula 1 driver is best suited to be the
teenager’s driving school instructor.

The question about the link between playing and coaching at the
minor hockey levels is frequently posed. In the pros, there’s a case to
be made that someone on the bench should be an ex pro. There’s likely a
credibility factor. Ken Hitchcock, Mike Keenan, Roger Neilson, Dave
King - none played pro hockey but all had ex-NHLers on their staffs.

A similar ballyhoo is made in elite minor hockey, that only
someone who himself has played elite hockey can do the job. What we fail
to understand is that while indeed former elite athletes have unique
skill sets and experiences, the art of coaching will always require its
own collection of skills honed over many years.

What might set apart the ex-player from the non-player is the
starting point. Someone with little or no playing experience begins with
almost nothing as a foundation, not to mention a lack of credibility.
Ex-players though begin coaching with a built-in “wow” factor, the
reaction kids have when they learn their coach played major junior or
college. How long the “wow” factor lasts and how positive an effect it
has on the kids’ learning and enjoyment is an altogether different
issue.

]]>Fri, 04 Apr 2014 15:15:25 -0400/blog/redirect?id=9539

Does playing experience equal competent coaching?

Way back, in my early coaching days in house league, there was a
fellow about my age who couldn’t skate. He claimed he could walk/slither
on skates, but not well and certainly not safely. Playing hockey was
out of the question.

How Frank (not his real name) came to have a team was a mystery
to me. Maybe there were no other candidates. I don’t really know.

He ran practices wearing winter boots. He shuffled about the ice,
directed kids to do this and that, helped them with skills, and even
pointed out and corrected skating issues. He had one of those deep
strong voices, perfect for a cavernous rink. Frank also seemed to have a
decent rapport with kids and his teams did fairly well, too.

Aside from hockey chit-chat, we didn’t talk much so I can’t say I
knew him well. But just as an observer, I’d say Frank was an effective
coach.

Another example. I knew a guy who’d been a mediocre player at the
lowest level of competitive minor hockey. Judging by his comportment
around the game, I suspect Gary was a tough customer. Not too skilled,
but I wouldn’t have wanted to cross him on the ice. He was, however, one
of the best technical coaches I’ve ever seen. Completely self-taught
with an eye for the tiniest detail and a knack for how to fix problems,
he was also a strong communicator and innovator with his minor teams.
They had tremendous success at elite levels.

Gary successfully ran off-season programs and schools, partly
because of his drive and partly his organization skills. Above all else,
he considered himself a teacher of the game. Watching him play though
made you wonder how on earth he could be such a competent coach.

A third example. This chap, Doug, is in my own age category. He
never played hockey. Not a minute. Broomball? Yes. And he was a champion
at it. But hockey? Nope. His skating was (is) laboured, his
puckhandling erratic, his shooting out of sync.

But as a coach of elite minor and junior teams, he ranks high. A
brilliant observer of players’ habits, strengths, and weaknesses, he is
able to massage the best from his players, no matter the roadblocks in
front of him. He respects the game and the people in it. Kids know it
and respond. And if Doug were to read this, he’d shake his head in
embarrassment.

Though he never played the game—and he readily shares this with
his players—he tells them he is almost envious of their enormous gifts.
Then he pushes them to use those same gifts to think, react, work,
execute.

If Frank, Gary, and Doug had had to rely on playing resumes to
get through coaching interviews, what do you think would have happened

]]>Wed, 26 Mar 2014 09:45:44 -0400/blog/redirect?id=9515

As long as we're on the subject of spring hockey (seelast week’s blog), let's have a look at its cousin, the spring tryout.

This
peculiarity must have come from someone who genuinely believed his
organization would get a huge autumn jump on competitors if tryouts were
held shortly after the season ended. It sort of made sense, on the face
of it at least.

Your team finishes in March or April. The kids
are in prime shape. Even the ones who play on affiliated teams have not
been off skates for long. Certainly it's no longer a respite than the
summer when kids may attend hockey schools for a week or two but
otherwise aren't doing much hockey. So having kids try out from the
level playing field of everyone being in game shape seems to have merit.

But then you need to step back to examine some other important factors that refute the idea.

For
one, picking a team, or even trimming the tryout numbers, five months
ahead of time eliminates the possibility of late bloomers having any
chance at all. Kids grow and mature at wildly variant rates. Look at a
bunch of them in April then again in August and some will be almost
unrecognizable, they've changed so much. Do kids grow more in summer
months than winter?

Seems so. According to Joseph Gigante, M.D.,
associate professor of pediatrics at Vanderbilt Children's Hospital in
Nashville, "although we don't have a good explanation for it, children
seem to grow fastest in the summer and slowest in the fall."

From a
purely principled standpoint, how important is it to get a so-called
jump on other associations? If an association is bent on winning, that’s
a philosophy in need of a rethink. Even at the most elite levels, like
AAA, there may be pressure to be successful. But surely people
understand (or do they?) there is neither consistency nor predictability
to how kids improve, learn, or compete. Some years, teams will be
strong and other years not so much. It’s for the same reason the pros
regard certain years as good draft years and others as poor ones.
They’re also dealing with kids, just older ones.

There’s also a
pretty strong argument to be made about giving hockey a rest for a
while, as mentioned in the blog about spring hockey. Let the kids get
their minds off the game by doing something else, then ramp it up again
in August.

Why are we creating these situations for kids who just don’t need them? Beats me.

]]>Fri, 21 Mar 2014 11:12:55 -0400/blog/redirect?id=8487

Some things I get. Some things I don’t.

I get that parents want the best for their kids. I did. Still do. I
don’t get that trying to have the best for your kids translates into
“more is better.”

I also get that if your child has talent in something, being
around or associated with children of a similar bent may benefit. I
don’t get that just because a child may appear to have talent now,
everything else should be set aside to nurture just that talent.

Which brings me to spring hockey tryouts and leagues. I don’t get either. Never have.

I know coaching colleagues who have taken teams for spring
leagues and loved the experience. So, too, they claim, did the kids and
parents. How nice for them. I suppose if my nine-year-old were
“selected” (ie. scouted) for the Nickeltown Beavertails AAAAA team, he’d
be thrilled. As a dad, I suppose I’d be proud.

And just what we needed after seven months of hockey was another three months of it.

I’ve done some skills sessions with spring league teams. Why?
The coaches knew me and wanted someone with a certain expertise in an
area. Teaching is teaching, as far as I’m concerned. The kids were fun,
as they usually are. The environment was a positive one. Still, it was
June and to my old-fashioned mind, these children belonged outside on
their bikes, playing soccer or baseball, or doing just about anything
other than more hockey.

While there are scientific studies that have examined the
effects of children focused on one activity, none has come up with a
definitive conclusion. But sometimes it’s perfectly okay not to lean on
science and rely instead on common sense.

Early specialization cements only specific skills in a specific
manner. The kids may become very good at a narrow range of things, but
that’s about it. We know all too well in child development that the
broader the range of exposure to a multitude of skills, the better it
is. Besides, anyone who actually believes pre-pubescent children are
becoming elite athletes is delusional. This doesn’t happen in most
activities until the teen years. The misplaced and emotional - again! -
opinions of those involved in spring hockey ought to step back and read
and listen to what the experts in child development, hockey instruction
and even the pros have to say about it.

Certainly none of the current or past professional players I’ve
spoken with ever said anything like, “Thank goodness I played spring
hockey all those years. I never would have made it otherwise.”

Put the skates away. Bring out the sneakers. And save yourself some money at the same time.

]]>Thu, 13 Mar 2014 08:29:05 -0400/blog/redirect?id=7413

The guy took me to task. His dander was up as he took umbrage with
some of my remarks. It’s not like I’d insulted him or anything. In fact,
I’d never met him before the discussion that evening. Just goes to show
you how emotional everyone gets when discussing nearly anything to do
with development. If only we’d get as riled about the school system. . .
or taxes. . . or bad driver. . . even the weather.

An association’s house league teams were having a poor year at
the novice (age seven to eight) level. Poor is relative, I suppose. Poor
in wins? Poor in goals for? Poor in parental issues?

The teams had been placed at levels (called A, B, C, with A
being the strongest) according to a formula used by its governing body, a
formula that didn’t take anything into account other than some obscure
expected bell curve of skill. It always caused problems. For this
association’s novice teams whose kids were mostly coming straight from
the Initiation Program, it was a disastrous year. One team was 0-17.
Another had only scored six goals so far in 20 games. The majority of
the others were at the bottom of the standings by a wide margin.

Full disclosure: Kids under about age 10 need to practice more
than play. Besides, stats and standings cause a host of problems we, and
they, could do without.

So the focus of my talk to the association’s novice team
coaches was how to try to draw more and different skills from the kids
in practice despite the awful results. You can’t control where your
teams get placed nor the results, I told them. But you can certainly
look at improving practices so as to direct energies where they belong,
to development rather than scores.

That’s when the guy’s hand shot up. “I’m just happy my kid is
playing,” he said. “I just want him out there doing what he can. After
all, it’s only house league.”

Only house league? My politically correct response wasn’t what I
wanted to say. Don’t all kids deserve the best coaching, the best
practices, the best instruction, the best development we can find? Does
it matter whether the kids are playing house league or AAA? Does it
matter, too, that the coach is inexperienced? Should coaches be seeking
assistance, guidance, mentoring in order to deliver such programming?

I suspect that message got overshadowed by my using the teams’
horrendous stats as the evening’s starting point. Bad mistake. Impact
vs. Intent.

What’s important is not the result. I’m glad the fellow’s son is playing. But I wonder: is he being the best coach he can be?

]]>Thu, 06 Mar 2014 09:17:23 -0400/blog/redirect?id=7348

Truism #1: If you’re in the playoffs, you have a chance. (See also,
“You can’t win the lottery without a ticket.” Same thing, only
different.)

Truism #2: Only one team can win the championship.

Everyone
believes #1; no one accepts #2. It gets worse. Not much a coach does at
this point of the year is going to appreciably change the team. It’s a
little like nutrition for sports. Eating well immediately before an
event won’t make you perform much better, but eating poorly will likely
make you perform worse.

As far as practice preparation goes,
it’s much the same. A bunch of crummy practices on the eve of playoffs
will make the team lose its edge. Good practices though will keep the
team honed, eager, and ready to start.

There’s no question the
tone around practices before or during a playoff stretch is just not
the same. Whether because of outside influences like parents or just the
kids themselves hyping the thought of getting their mitts on the
trophy, the coach is faced with a variety of new pressures.

To
begin with, practices at this juncture should not include any new
instruction. It’s not because the kids can no longer learn. On the
contrary, kids are almost always ready to learn. However there does come
a time when the coach should stop yakking and let the reins out a bit.
Besides, after months of instruction, it’s perfectly okay not to teach
anymore and just reinforce.

But how to do it effectively?
Perhaps the key ingredient for these practices is get your players out
of their regular season comfort zones. With that in mind, playoff-time
practices need to have a different tempo and rhythm with a broader array
of challenges. You want to expose the kids to a wide spectrum of
situations based upon what you taught during the season.

When
you remove formal teaching from the practice equation, what’s left is
reviewing. Coaches often fall back to the same old drills and approaches
to review skills and tactics. Repetition has its merits but often a
jolt of up-tempo newness will go farther.

For instance, if
drills used a work:rest time ratio of 1:3 or 1:4 (as those which teach
anything new will do), playoff practice drills should be at 1:2 or even
1:1. In other words, quicken the drill pace, have smaller groups doing
more reps in a shorter time. The kids will learn to react faster and pay
more attention because of reduced “down” time.

Drills need
alteration, too. What was good in October with minimal or no resistance
needs to be tweaked to reinforce those skills against some resistance.

Most
importantly, everything MUST be fun. Use more small area games, fun
activities, relays, whatever works. These keep the kids loose and inject
some healthy competitive spirit into practice. Like I said, same thing,
only different.

]]>Wed, 26 Feb 2014 14:47:03 -0400/blog/redirect?id=7336

A coach saunters up to me after my session on playoff preparation. It’s a small room so it’s a short saunter. More like a mosey, actually.

He has that look coaches get when they’ve tried everything and just can’t seem to nail the answer. You know: furrowed brow, slightly clenched teeth, shoulders begin to sink in frustration. His kids are competitive 10-year-olds, pretty good, too, he says, and adds he inherited their skill. He gets it. His players are good only partly because of what he’s taught and how. He’s willing to give to credit his predecessors.

“What they don’t do well,” he says, “is think. We’re almost in playoffs. And no matter how many times I’ve shown them, they’re still all over the map when we forecheck.” The more he talks, the more anxious he gets. He picks up a rink sheet and draws what he’s taught all season.

“Looks fine,” I say.

“Then what am I missing?”

“At this stage of year, you have no choice but to do something backwards,” I tell him.

His jaw starts to dangle a bit. Backwards? Huh?

I explain thusly. Normally with even the simplest of tactics, you show kids early in the year very narrow parameters of space to use when forechecking or defending a zone or anything really. As they gain confidence and skill, you gradually—ever so gradually—increase the space of their tactical responsibility. Their age and skill will determine what the maximum might be.

Except, I explain, you’ve done the opposite. You’ve taught your tactics with the largest space available. What you’re observing are kids who have too many options and decisions to make for what their little brains can handle. There’s likely nothing wrong with the tactics or principles you’re exposing them to. It’s the approach.

Which means you now have to do the reverse. Bring it all in. Package it—okay, market it — by saying they’ve now played all these months with an understanding of such-and-such a tactic. As you move to the playoff run, you reduce the rink to lanes. For atoms, there’d be four. Outside the face off dots are two lanes. There are another two from centre ice to the outside dots.

Let’s talk forechecking, and this is a for instance, not a suggestion you would use such a forecheck. You show them in practice how the three lanes nearest to the puck carrier MUST be filled by the three forwards. Or the two lanes. Or show them that the puckcarrier’s lane must have two forwards in it and the third forward in an adjacent one. Or whatever you wish.

Coming up with simple drills to illustrate these is easy. What do you think?

“Lanes. So simple. And yeah, they do have a ton of trouble with big space.” And he saunters off to his playoff practice.

Next week: Playoff Practice Secrets.

]]>Thu, 20 Feb 2014 10:17:34 -0400/blog/redirect?id=7320

So the guy says to me, “I, like, need a drill.”

“We all do,” says I.

“Well yeah,” he says, “but you’ve been doing this for, like,
forever.” And I’m, like, wondering why everyone these days needs to,
like, use the word ‘like’ all the time. But, like, I digress...

“Your point?” says I.

“You know lots of drills,” he says. And he waits for my worldly
knowledge to spill forth and fill the vial we call his brain, which may
or may not have leakage issues.

“I make up lots of drills,” says I. “ Most of 'em. In fact, nearly all.”

“From what drill book?” he asks, which means he heard but didn’t listen.

“I call it ‘By Richard Bercuson.’ Only one copy though,” says I.

“Oh,” he says, getting it and sounding very disappointed because I
have no kernels of drill wisdom to give him. He may have to think up
some. This will take effort. Darn.

Then he adds, “We’re, like, on the verge of playoffs. I need some new drills.”

“Too late.” says I. “Do you want the kids to learn more or execute better?”

“Both?” but he’s not sure and is fishing for an answer. He’s tossed out the line and wants me to bite.

I am happy to oblige. Why? Because he needs help, he knows he needs
help, and he knows that I know he knows he needs help. He just can’t
come up with the words “Help me, please.”

So here’s what I say to him: Playoffs are a big deal to some
parents and maybe to some of the kids, too. Maybe even to most of them.
They may believe there’s a lot on the line. But in truth, unless they’re
playing high level competitive bantam or midget with scouts watching,
the trophy you win is worth just a few bucks. You won’t make anything
selling it on eBay and the bragging rights are good for a few days.
Twenty years from now, those
kids will remember little of it.

The lead-up to playoffs is the most challenging time for you. You
need to keep everything in perspective yet ensure the kids’ skills and
attention to game plans, such as
they are in minor, are honed somewhat. There’s no point trying to teach
anything new, not even a new drill. The excitement of looming playoffs
makes it tough for kids to focus.

So you need a different tack in practice. Address how prepared the
kids are for the first few minutes of practice, much like for a game.
Look at tempo, application and execution of key principles you’ve
already taught.

Then he says, “I never did any of those things before. Aren’t they new?”

“Not really. You’ve been doing them without
paying attention to them. Playoffs are a perfect time to give them some real thought.”

“Okay. How?”

Next week: Part 3 - Bringing it all together

]]>Thu, 13 Feb 2014 09:36:07 -0400/blog/redirect?id=7276

Let’s start an argument.

(Monty Python: “Would you like a 5-minute argument or a 3-minute
argument?”, “I’d like the 3-minute.”, “No, you wouldn’t.”, “Yes, I
would.”)

All minor hockey teams should be in playoffs. Or, there shouldn’t be playoffs. How about we have playoffs but nobody loses?

All moot points. We do have playoffs and with them comes a host of
issues that can make the ride rather turbulent for coaches. If they
thought it was tough during tryouts, wait till playoffs hit. If ever
there was a true test of a coach's mettle, how to handle playoff
emotions is the one.

To wit, I relate an example of a recent conversation I had in a rink. Turns out it wasn't an atypical one.

Coach: "Great. We're in third and match up well with the team we'll
see in the playoffs. Only lost two games since Christmas. Our forwards
are really finding the holes and we're breaking out great. We're in good
shape for a playoff run for sure." Which then launched into a summary
of how his teams
have done at this level the last few years.

Did I mention his kids are eight years old?

Has he lost perspective or is he merely an object of the environment?

The problem with coaching a minor hockey team in playoffs is that
it's just a bunch of kids being told that playoffs are important, much
more important than the previous five months. Reality has nothing to do
with it. That only one team can win isn't the point. Even the most
marginal team can pull it off, can't it? Look at the NHL's L.A. Kings
who won the Stanley Cup in 2012 as the conference's eighth and last
seed. If they could pull it off. . .

Whether
or not a coach, like the one quoted above, is offline is only partly
the point. There's a much larger beast at play here. Leagues create
playoffs; parents manufacture often inappropriate expectations; and
sometimes coaches hang their coaching hats on what kids can do under
bizarrely pressured circumstances.

What's a coach to do? Playoffs loom. Everyone talks about what's at
stake, which is really not much in the larger scheme of things. We
place enormous importance on a few games, grossly overestimating the
impact a few games will have on the lives of children or adolescents. If
we were to ask the kids we coach to sit in a gymnasium and write a math
or
English test while all their parents watched, imagine the negative
feedback.

But as long as we’re stuck with the situation, we need to make the
best of it. Might as well prepare as best we can. Next week in Part 2:
The practices.

]]>Wed, 05 Feb 2014 10:49:40 -0400/blog/redirect?id=7272

Bacon, eggs - and a ham. Not chips and beer like the summer evening
at a provincial seminar some years back when a bunch of coaches sat
around and waxed less than eloquently about development. It was an
eclectic group that included NHL coaches and a smattering of junior,
college and minor guys. Beer may have fuelled the conversation, but it
did nothing to enhance it, let alone elevate it. I recall lots of
rambling. Good chips though.

But breakfast? Now there was a recipe that worked. The spray mentor
thing (see last week’s blog) didn’t really cut it. So when an
association brought me on to mentor its competitive team coaches, I
needed to find a way to establish a baseline approach.

We reserved monthly Saturday morning space at a local eatery. The
association paid for breakfast. While it wasn’t compulsory for coaches
to attend, it was most certainly an expectation that, barring a hockey
or family conflict, this was part of their duties. Attendance therefore
was a steady 75 to 90 percent and usually every team sent at least one
from its staff.

We’d discuss common issues and I’d regularly do presentations on
teaching some component of the game, complete with handouts, drawing
drills, and sharing with them how these ideas would best be implemented
at their age groups. The association at the time had 14 teams.

I’d created a development roadmap of skills and tactics to present at
each level and coaches had to adhere to it, then build on these with
their own ideas. The important link came when I went to practices to see
if coaches were indeed using the plan and linking it to our breakfast
discussions.

To be clear, coaches were never told or sprayed with gems about how,
for instance, a forecheck should be done. I borrowed a key narrative
technique from my fiction writing days: show, don’t tell. Here, I’d say,
are the pros and cons of getting bantam defencemen to pinch. Can your
kids do this? Can you teach them how? Is it a necessary tool this year?

For the most part, they followed the roadmap. I’d like to think our
sharing of practice ideas and how to improve teaching techniques both
made them better coaches and improved the lot of their teams. In fact, I
worked with many of these same coaches some years later in another
organization and it was neat to see that some had kept my handouts over
the years and remembered the positive interactions of the mentorship
gatherings.

This is what mentorship was meant to be. Informal direction. Sharing
ideas. Planting seeds. Asking questions. The program was a success and
continues today under different leadership.

Now whether or not they still have their bacon and eggs is another
matter. If asked, I’d tell them coaches digest better with breakfast
than with beer and chips.

]]>Tue, 04 Feb 2014 16:34:29 -0400/blog/redirect?id=7173

Years after the Montreal experience (see last week’s blog), I became a “spray mentor.” This is a person who sprays his audience with ideas that have a stick ’em coating. The theory is if you spray your ideas at lots of people, some ideas will stick.

There’s a fundamental problem with this fantasy though. It’s not mentoring at all. It’s just lecturing. It doesn’t even scrape the surface of the definition of communication, which cannot be uni-directional to be effective.

Still, I sprayed. Often.

To my chagrin, I was unable to single-handedly reverse the tide of what I felt was mediocre coaching in minor. This despite dozens of presentations on an array of topics about teaching and coaching the game.

Some I did myself and some I farmed out to other local experienced and talented hockey teachers. They were good presentations, too, using the latest hi-tech gadgetry like overhead projectors and flip charts. We’d get 30 to 40 coaches to attend and were naively confident we were changing the face of coaching in the region. It was spray mentoring in its purest form.

With the best of intentions, our attitude was if you properly educated one coach, we would improve the lot of 15 kids. The math was easy. Thirty coaches meant 450 kids would be better off. We’ll assume the content we sprayed had a little meat on its bones.

However - and this, I later discovered, was a big however - a one-off lecture on teaching anything in minor hockey probably had about the same long-term impact as a driving school instructor saying to a student, “Start the car. Good. You pass.” Sufficient to get you down the street to the corner store. Not so good for an hour-long trip across town through rush hour traffic in bad weather.

By the time an association hired me to develop its mentorship program and help its competitive team coaches, I’d long been questioning the value of spray mentoring. I had no evidence it didn’t work, nor that it did. But it just didn’t feel right. I kept asking myself, “If I’m a new coach and this guy is spraying information at me on how to create successful one on one attacks, where’s the follow-up?”

When the 1999 Molson Open Ice Summit dropped its findings on the Canadian hockey public, I was relieved to see my ideas on mentoring were in line with what the poobahs called for. They weren’t talking about lectures or presentations. No, mentorship meant actually ongoing communication with coaches. In fact, I’d done that as the head coach of a club in France between my Montreal years and the Ottawa ones. What turned me into a spray mentor? I don’t know.

So then, how to minimize the spraying yet communicate with coaches and offer proper individual help?

The answer came with breakfast.

]]>Tue, 28 Jan 2014 14:47:18 -0400/blog/redirect?id=7094

Long before The Summit and in an epoch when the Bee Gees were the group, mentors existed in hockey. And I was one of them.

It was with a hockey association in Montreal in the late ’70s. The community in the area where the minor hockey association existed first hired a fellow to take charge of all their ice sports. He in turn hired “technical advisors” to oversee coaching development for each discipline. It was my first paying hockey gig outside hockey schools and I made $10 an hour.

There were five teams whose coaches I was supposed to assist in whichever means we all deemed appropriate. Three teams used my services regularly. We communicated using a device called a telephone though most often we just talked at the rink. We never liaised. We talked. One team practically adopted me as an ad hoc assistant coach. Another didn’t call on me once for anything. The team’s coach, in his view, needed no help and considered the very existence of a young pup mentor rather ridiculous.

Nobody used the word “mentor.” It was probably in the dictionary but not in relation to sport and certainly not to hockey. I was the AA teams’ technical advisor. Mentor didn’t really come into vogue till 1999 with the Molson Open Ice Summit.

The Summit was meant to be the grand awakening for hockey in Canada, the caffeine jolt to slap us out of our developmental lethargy. Leaders from professional and amateur ranks gathered in Toronto that August and came up with a detailed list of recommendations to improve the game.

The creation of mentorship programs was a key one. At the time, I recall thinking that my halcyon Montreal days as a technical advisor were really spent as a mentor. Or was it vice versa? I, and others of my ilk, had been doing this for some time. The question was; what exactly had we been doing and were we doing it right?

Today the mentoring of coaches has more import and significance. Since my first turn at it in Montreal, I’ve been the mentor for three other minor organizations as well as a Hockey Canada branch. I remain as convinced now as I was when Stayin' Alive was a hit that training and certifying only goes so far. What our minor coaches really need is active, personal mentoring

]]>Thu, 16 Jan 2014 10:52:02 -0400/blog/redirect?id=7071

The very first thing I said to the parents - after “Hello, how are you?” - was, "there is no hitting in hockey. Baseball? Yes. Football? Sure. Boxing? Definitely."

And that’s how the body checking clinic began. I could only hope the coaches both grasped the message and were ready to employ the right terminology.

Because in teaching this game, communicating the right message is everything.

So what’s wrong with the word “hit”? It has an aggressive even violent connotation. Teams that count or track hits get caught up in an over-used and needless “statisticization” of the game. More importantly, they give players tacit approval to mount attacks on the body. The more “hits” the better is the message. To a teenager (since body checking is now for bantams and older), this can be open season.

A body check has a purpose and if done correctly often includes not much more than rubbing out an opponent. A hit, however, seems to have as its objective the termination of an opponent’s ability to remain on his feet regardless of whether or not the “hitter” did it legally or strategically well.

Here’s another beauty that causes everyone no end of needless fuss: power play. Actually, the French Canadian language does it right by calling it “avantage numerique” or numerical advantage. It’s always struck (not hit) me as comical to hear parents scream from the stands when the opposition gets a penalty, “Power Play! Let’s get some goals!” Then when their team has trouble scoring, they shout again, “It’s a power play! Set it up!”

Set it up? Really? You mean these 10 year olds have spent so many hours practising man advantage alignments and one-timer plays that a goal is a foregone conclusion? The fact is the team has an extra player for a short bit and thus a little more space. It might be more accurate to call it a spatial advantage.

And finally we come to competitive novice/mite/tyke. In other words, wherever you are, the 7-8 year olds. There’s recreational or house league - but then there’s elite. It’s called competitive because elite would probably be deemed too, well, elitist and we can’t have that.

It has all the accoutrements of elite hockey though, and the kids aren’t yet out of primary school. They read kids books, not even juvenile fiction; find “One Direction” a gas; probably believe in Santa Claus, a little bit; are just learning to play an instrument; aren’t allowed to take the bus alone; still have to use a car seat; think Will Ferrell is the world’s best actor; and may not be able to tie their own skates. But they are “competitive” players.

Another time, we’ll look at “minor hockey” and “common sense.”

]]>Fri, 10 Jan 2014 00:06:09 -0400/blog/redirect?id=7052

Be it resolved that 2013’s most overrated and least productive hockey debate was about hitting.

No, “check” that. Hitting is in baseball; checking is in hockey, which includes, but is not limited to, body-checking. Hitting versus checking isn’t just semantics. It is a significant difference in connotation.

So, resolution rewritten: 2013’s most...blah...blah...debate was about checking. Arguing in favour of the resolution is the writer.

Ladies and gentlemen, in 2013, minor hockey emotions spilled over about an issue that wasn’t really one. Hockey Canada pushed body checking up to bantam. Across this land we felt the reverberations as nearly everyone with an opinion - which, in Canada, is everyone plus one - had something to say about it. At least no one stormed Hockey Canada’s Calgary headquarters armed with hockey stick pickets.

It was a non-issue for a few reasons, the most important being that the health of our children’s noggins shouldn’t have raised a peep. The evidence was overwhelming; body checking hurts young kids.

Didn’t it hurt us 20, 30, or 40 years ago? It did, but we dumbed it out. As in, we thought we were tougher because getting clocked and being dizzy for three days was part of the game.

Today’s kids are bigger, stronger, faster. The equipment is rock hard, on which point Mister Cherry is correct. Even the ice is faster as ice-making has nearly become a science.

What hasn’t worked, and is a contributing reason to the hue and cry against the body checking rule change, is that nearly everyone skips steps. Who is first teaching skating balance, stick checks, angling, and then body contact as espoused by Hockey Canada in both its manuals and videos? This has been the PR black hole. It’s not a new concept either. Back in the 80s, yours truly sat on a national committee led by a very bright fellow from Alberta had written an outline of a progression on the steps needed to teach body checking. Nearly 30 years later, those steps haven’t changed.

The question shouldn’t be why not have body checking at younger ages. It should be: are coaches teaching the necessary progressions over a four- to six-year span? Can eight-year-olds learn proper balance and stick checks? Of course they can. They won’t be particularly adept at it. But then, how many eight-year-olds can play a Billy Joel hit without first learning Chopsticks?

The same goes for angling. Coaches need to teach kids from the youngest ages to develop the thinking skills in order to channel opponents into disadvantageous positions. They won’t be very good at that either at first. Why? Because they’re kids. They’re not supposed to be good at a lot of things for a while yet.

The body checking PR machine could use an oil and lube job to make coaches and parents understand progressions, the same kinds of progressions they see in the classroom.

Now arguing against the resolution...

]]>Thu, 02 Jan 2014 14:38:10 -0400/blog/redirect?id=7044

Arguably, hockey is the toughest sport in which to run a practice. (But go ahead: argue against it). The one thing it does have in common with other sports though is that every practice has dead time.

This is the period that begins when you blow the dickens out of the whistle or shout out a lung trying to gather the little darlings to a spot where you will forever enrich their lives by describing the next drill. In hockey, this is often like herding cats. The dead time ends when you've exhausted your lexicon of euphemisms for fancy hockey terms, have drawn the loveliest of drills on a board, then dispersed the troops with a regal wave.

In coaching parlance, this non-active dead time is a necessary evil. Eliminating it is virtually impossible. Minimizing it, however, is an art in itself. Some coaches get it; others try to; many can’t be bothered.

Keep in mind that minor hockey coaches, for the most part, are well-meaning folks. They’ll watch over other people’s kids in a harsh environment and mostly deliver a decent sport program. This varies wildly but, let’s face it, in a volunteer-based system, one does what one can. But show them the value of reducing dead practice time and you might as well ask them to study videos of root canals - with
apologies to readers who are dentists.

Take the case of Barry, the coach of a competitive bantam team. He’d been pressed into service from a self-imposed semi-retirement when the original coach resigned.
Cause of the resignation? He was bad with kids, an unfavourable trait for a youth volunteer. In cruised Barry laden with mounds of material.

He started his first practice with a wonderful warm-up exercise
to get the kids going and establish a tone. Said tone went instantly tone deaf when, for the next 18 minutes - yes, 18! - he had them gather in a corner around his little rink board. There he either read them excerpts from “War and Peace” or showered them with very tactic and system in his arsenal, which, he later said, would be the team’s playbook for the remainder of the season. This was in October.

No amount of explanation could convince him that icetime was for movement and teaching, not dissertations. They had to learn. His mentor says, Barry, it doesn’t have to be in one bite - on the ice! They need to see what it takes to win, Barry says. Perhaps, his mentor agrees, but not that way and not for so long. This is my way, Barry says.

He managed to reduce his dead practice time from about 40 to 25%. Still far too long. The kids tuned him out within a few practices. Barry was pulled from the team before Christmas that season and never coached
again.

Which leads to two interesting questions:

1 - How much dead time do you see in hockey practices?

2 - Why is it so important in hockey to have less than in other sports?

]]>Thu, 26 Dec 2013 13:03:45 -0400/blog/redirect?id=6992

Hockey historians have unearthed a crackly early 20th century audio recording that offers proof of how the rink’s five circles came into being. Here’s a partial transcript:

“The rink’s too (redacted) bland.”

“We can paint it.” (sound of swishing in the background)

“Okay. Paint what?”

“Lines and stuff.” (gurgling)

“What stuff?”

“How about circles? Curling circles”

“You may have something there. Circles all over the rink…”

“With some lines in them…”

“Sure. Tell me again why we’d paint circles?” (two burps follow)

“Looks pretty. Keeps the players from killing each during face offs.”

“During what?”

“To start the play. Besides, what else could you use them for (unintelligible)?”

“To go around. You make players go around ’em.”

“In a game? Like a new rule?”

“Nah, you (redacted)! For training. Y’know, practice. Go around ’em. Put two at each end of the rink and a fifth in the middle.”

“Why another one in the middle?”

“To have something else to go around!”

“I dunno. Seems kinda, well, repetitious. To have guys go around circles in practice over and over again. Can’t see the point.”

“Pretty (unintelligible) to me! The more you go around ’em, the better you get.”

“At what? Going around circles?” (sound of clinking glass)

At this point, the recording loses clarity. However, you can hear voices raised as an argument seems to ensue about the efficacy of fighting players who are sitting on the bench.

Fast forward to the present. The circles remain and have become the staple warm-up/cool down/conditioning drill/technique trainer for every age group and level in the game. Skate around the five circles. Repeat till dizzy and bored.

Of course no one could have predicted over 100 years ago that the same drill would still be used today. One would have thought we’d have developed a modicum of creativity in teaching turns or warm-up activities. Evidently not.

There are a few problems with the five-circle drill. It’s boring, and not just because it’s done everywhere and by everyone. Once you’ve gone around three, it’s hard to be motivated to do more. Consequently, technique (if that’s what the point was) suffers. Besides, kids have trouble focusing at the best of times. Having them do the same route over and over again, often for 10 minutes of a practice, is enough to drive someone batty.

Yes, yes, we know: figure skating teachers have been drilling their charges for eons on similar repetitions, called compulsories. But these are quite different sports whose training techniques have little in common.

The turns in hockey require a vast array of quick changes in radius and speed both with and without the puck. Circling circles deals with only one type.

Can you imagine what might have happened if our game’s creators had chosen instead to paint the rink with sets of overlapping, concentric circles, sort of like the five Olympic rings run amok?

We can do better.

]]>Wed, 18 Dec 2013 23:24:22 -0400/blog/redirect?id=6944

Quickly now: what do building a desk and learning a tactic have in common?

You’re shopping online for a computer desk. You find one and decide to go straight to the store to see it. When you arrive, a teenage employee is assembling the floor model without the instruction sheet. In minutes, the completed desk is as it appeared online with nary a loose part. You buy it.

When you unpack the flat box and lay out the dozens of parts and hardware, you’re confused. But then you hark back to the kid in the store who assembled it before your coffee got cold. So how hard could it be?

Two hours and some choice words later, you’re nearly done. Well, except for a few screws and two pieces of what could be a drawer or siding that haven’t yet found a home. What went wrong?

Repetition. The store kid had probably done the assembly dozens of times. From a learning perspective, he was on autopilot. He didn’t even need the instructions. You, however, had only the 2D picture of the finished product in your mind along with hieroglyphic instructions and zero experience in building this desk. Even if you could take apart car engines, this desk was still a new experience for you.

Players learning a new skill or tactic, like you with the desk, will rely on clear instructions and a mind’s eye picture (or video or demo, given it involves movement) of what the tactic needs to resemble. They can’t do it though if you throw it all at them in one lump, and most decidedly not if you expect execution in practice with any speed.

It would be tantamount to you being instructed by the furniture store to race the teenage employee to complete the desk assembly on your first try – or fifth, or sixth. Yes, you’d do better, but no, you won’t catch up to the kid for a while yet.

Essentially then, you can never sacrifice technique for speed if you seek proper execution. This applies to learning how to beat a defender one on one or do a breakout or any other game-related planned event.

At a more basic level, it’s akin to asking kids to weave through a pylon course then take a shot. (Let’s set aside for now that pylons are a horrible nuisance and over-used.) That’s all well and good if they're good puckhandlers with decent turning or scooting skills to both sides, not to mention having the ability to shoot immediately after completing the course. But if they can do all that, what's the point of a simple pylon course? And how fast do they need to go through that course, with no resistance or challenges, before technique falters?

The desk assembly illustration is not so far-fetched. Skill acquisition and the confidence to apply skills under duress, however one defines it, are not specific to sport. All physical skills need to be practiced at a pace that allows for proper execution before we can implement the multitude of variables kids face in games.

Keep that in mind next time you try to build something for the first time and someone stands over you demanding to know why it’s taking so long.

]]>Thu, 12 Dec 2013 01:01:25 -0400/blog/redirect?id=6895

The world tour began on a balmy October Sunday afternoon. A newly minted guitarist with barely two years of lessons to show for it, I sputtered through five songs at my daughter’s wedding.

One went passably well, till I forgot a few chords. On another, the song miraculously sped up from charming country ballad to near-rock anthem speed.

A third was just a train wreck, as my teacher later smirked. It was not lost on me that the three mirrored a hockey player’s performance anxiety over a full game. Or a coach’s through three sections of a practice gone horribly to seed.

And that’s about when I first realized just how much I’d forgotten about the nuances of performing new skills, especially in an emotionally charged environment.

For instance, it took me three months of constant practice to sort of nail the transition from a C chord to a B minor. I could do it slowly and even with a steady metronome-paced beat. But incorporating it into the final product was another matter. There were similar issues with barre chords. Those are the ones where you contort your fingers and wrist into Cirque du Soleil-like positions and still need to strike each string perfectly.

It’s equivalent to getting your kids (your fingers) to each know what they must do and where to go on a breakout (the chord) in order to mount an attack (the riff) and score (the song).

But I’d forgotten. Forty years of coaching at so many levels had taught me plenty about, well, coaching. I’d long since surpassed journalist Malcolm Gladwell’s magic number of 10,000 hours to master a skill. Yet, though well past the number, mastering the skill of coaching had clearly eluded me. How could I spend so much time teaching, instructing, mentoring and coaching at some fairly elite levels and still not really understand what the learner feels like?

Learning guitar - I still take lessons, thanks for asking - has re-introduced me to what new learners require to grasp the complexities of a skill or tactic. My struggles with barre chords, riffs, and linking off-beat lyrics to tunes have forced me to go back to where I was when I started coaching and was still playing. It’s not that I lost patience with how the players learn; indeed, I lost touch.

The artistry of playing an instrument and creating music has remarkable parallels to how hockey coaches try to teach players to make nearly instantaneous game decisions. Too often this is without establishing the proper skill base. No novice guitarist began with Stairway to Heaven.

My world tour has stalled in the upstairs spare bedroom where I pluck away, oblivious to the world. But, with every new chord, riff, or tune, I remind myself what good coaching needs.